November Rain
by Annonie
Summary: Complete ETC Dr. Harris, a psychologist, is hired to help an alien who has been captured regain its humanity. Not the typical capture Clark story.
1. Teaser

**AN: **This is my own little improv challenge. I'm currently working on another Smallville fic, but I'm not gonna post until I'm done. So, in the mean time, I decided to try writing a story where I wrote down what I was thinking and just edit it once (hense the improvness). Maybe this will help me stop being such a perfectionist!

**November Rain**

**Teaser**

Dr. Harris rapidly strode down the pristine hallways, her nose wrinkling as the scent of bleach filled her nostrils. For someone who rarely showed emotions, her uneven heartbeat and damp hairline were the only signs of her anxiety. She had been contacting the particular company for over a month now, but this was the first time she entered their highly secured walls. If everything she read was true, they had a remarkable find behind one of the several doors she was passing. Just the thought of it made her want to hold her breath, but, as always, her sights were focused on her goal and nothing could stop her.

A lone man stood patiently, obviously a minion sent for her arrival. Seeing the doctor, she took a moment to straighten her thin glasses, and immediately picked up her pace. "Dr. Harris, I presume," the dark haired man greeted, his hand already extended forward.

Dr. Harris briefly shook his hand, long enough to be polite but not earnest. "Yes and you are..." she trailed off, her voice sharp and clear, much like her appearance.

Awkwardly running his hand through his hair, the man rattled off, "I'm Dr. Baum," a little too hastily to be comfortable. "I was sent to give you a quick tour around the facility before you meet with our superiors."

Dr. Harris assumed as much. Placing a loose strand of her brunette hair behind her ear, she replied, "Of course, I could tell this experiment was one filled with many precautions."

Dr. Baum quickly turned around, catching the woman off guard. "This is much more than just an experiment..." he clearly whispered, a vibrant passion glowing behind his pale blue eyes. Speechless by her colleague's fervor, Dr. Harris merely nodded.

**To Be Continued...**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Smallville...obviously. November Rain is the title of a song by Guns N' Roses.

**AN2:** All reviews/flames are welcome since it is improv so it may not be top notch writing.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

Dr. Harris was immediately led to a door identical to all the rest. She waited for Dr. Baum to open the door for her, not wanting to be too persistent her first day. Being the gentleman he was, Dr. Baum instantly picked up on her hesitancy and politely opened the door, patiently waiting for her to enter.

At first her steps were quick, as always, but as soon as the man turned on the light, they became more and more hesitant. The room, over half the size of her apartment, was covered with test tubes and microscopes. For a science-based facility, it would not normally seem out of the norm, yet there was some slight tinge in the atmosphere that sent chills down the her spine. Still looking at the vials, she spoke barely above a whisper, "This is all from-"

"Yes," Dr. Baum interrupted, still standing in the doorway. For some reason Dr. Harris knew the man was pleased with her shocked reaction.

Gaining her composure, she turned towards the doctor, professionally pushing her glasses up. "How long?" she asked, the usual calm in her voice returning.

"Almost one year," Dr. Baum answered, as he stroked his graying goatee, trying to think of the exact amount. Entering the room he continued, "Ten months and seven-teen days I believe."

Looking once again around the room, Dr. Harris declared, "Incredible," her voice now strong and definite.

Dr. Baum took this moment to switch into his tour guide mode. Quickly motioning towards all the different sections, he stated, "Over that period of time we've taken samples of its blood, skin, saliva, semen, and anything else you can think of." He paused for a second and motioned towards one of the microscopes. "The most amazing part is that on the surface it all seems indisputably human, but once you get a deeper look..."

Taking the pause as her cue, Dr. Harris strode over to the selected microscope and peered into it. For the second time that day the usually confident doctor was at a lost for words. "God..." she breathed as she watched the specimen's blood from all different angles.

"Just wait until you see the specimen itself," the man stated with the same fervor that intrigued Dr. Harris earlier.

Once again speechless, she had no choice but to follow as the once nervous man seemed to take charge, his confidence building from her amazement. She usually hated relinquishing control, but in this particular case she was too astounded to notice. She continued to follow the doctor down a series of hallways. Finally reaching another identical white-painted door at the end of the hallway, Dr. Baum proudly reached for his ID badge and swiped it though a keypad. It was then the perceptive woman noticed no other door had that kind of keypad protection. Keeping her face calm, even though thoughts swarmed through her mind like the butterflies in her stomach, she followed the doctor into a small room that looked slightly like a foyer to a large house. Eyeing the room skeptically, Dr. Harris immediately took notice of the small green gems scattered throughout the walls.

"The specimen is just beyond this room, but there a few things I need to clear with you first," Dr. Baum started as he searched for his clipboard, his uneasiness quickly returning. Taking the woman's silence as an agreement, the doctor said, "For the following statements I need a 'yes' or 'no' answer, quickly and precisely."

Looking at the man for the first time since she'd entered the room, Dr. Harris finally felt in her comfort zone, quick and precise were her middle names. "Yes," she said with a firm nod.

Fidgeting with his clipboard, the male doctor recited off the first statement, "I realize I am here of my own free will, but once I enter these doors I am obligated to this facility's rules and procedures."

Only waiting a second to process the information, Dr. Harris replied strongly, "Yes."

After eyeing the woman for a moment, Dr. Baum continued down his clipboard, "I will not get attached to this or any other specimen, for I realize that it is the property of this facility and nothing else."

The question catching her off guard, Dr. Harris was silent for a couple seconds before answering, "Yes."

Obviously wanting to finish the procedure, Dr. Baum fidgeted under the intense stare of Dr. Harris and quickly rattled off, "And lastly, I realize I am here for the sake of science and humanity."

"Yes."

Almost looking relieved, Dr. Baum quickly handed the clipboard to Dr. Harris, as if it held some kind of unknown curse. "I just need you to sign here," he said as he pointed to a dotted line at the end of the page.

Glancing over the official looking piece of paper, Dr. Harris answered, "Of course, I just have one question..." She paused for a moment, just to make sure she had the man's full attention. "This is obviously a science facility, yet I am a psychologist. Even though I am honored, I am still confused as to why your people contacted me."

Dr. Baum instantly bit his bottom lip. After much consideration, he answered, "Unfortunately, I cannot answer any questions until you sign that piece of paper. I already crossed the line by answering your previous questions in the examination room."

Slowly nodding, Dr. Harris replied, "Of course...I understand." After reading through the paper one last time, she signed it, making her usually illegible signature pristine.

Hesitantly taking the clipboard back, Dr. Baum carefully eyed the signature, as if to check for its authenticity. Placing the clipboard randomly on the desk, he continued, "And to answer your previous question...our subject is remarkably human-like, much like its samples. When it arrived, it was very intelligent yet stubborn. Unfortunately, some scientists didn't take kindly to its rebellion..." he paused for a second, as if to detach himself for the words he was about to speak. "It now seems almost completely withdrawn from reality. Some of us hope to heal and recapture some of that intelligence, with your help of course."

Her hazel eyes skeptically looking at the doctor, Dr. Harris wondered what she had just signed herself up for.

**To Be Continued...**


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

Against her better judgment, Dr. Harris boldly walked through the metallic door, the only one of its kind in this otherwise hospital-like facility. The bright light bounced off the spotless walls, creating a blinding spectacle, much like the rooms in an insane asylum. The only furniture was a small cot in the center of the room, with a sleeping figure under a thin, white sheet, its face turned towards the wall. Pausing for only a second, the woman continued to stride towards the figure, not wanting to show her fear to the scientist, who was still standing in the doorway.

She slowly rounded the cot, never taking her eyes off the seemingly dormant creature. Even though it was covered with a sheet, Dr. Harris could still tell how remarkably human like the subject truly was. Once she reached its head, she slowly kneeled down, and hesitantly looked up at Dr. Baum through her glasses. The male doctor slowly nodded, granting her permission to continue. Dr. Harris slowly pushed a strand of the creature's dark curly hair away from its face. Her breath caught in her throat, she thought she was going to have a heart attack right there. The face, young yet scarred, was too delicate...too perfect. Regaining her composure, she quickly rose to her feet. Trying not to raise her voice, she accused, "This is just a child. What kind of facility is this!"

His pale eyes blinking with fear, Dr. Baum quickly approached the angry woman, his hands signaling to lower her voice. "I-I can assure you, this is no child. You saw the samples," he whispered, and, even though his words were strong, his voice was slightly trembling.

Looking back down at the child's face, Dr. Harris boldly stated, "It's too perfect, completely human. No one can recreate a human being."

Stopping mid step, Dr. Baum's eyes grew wide with concern. "We didn't create it. We found it. D-Didn't you read the files sent to you?"

"Of course I did," Dr. Harris snapped, her hazel eyes glaring at the doctor through her glasses. "It just recited facts and charts; there was no background information involved."

Obviously disturbed, Dr. Baum nervously glanced around the room, whispering, "Oh, this is bad...I thought we had it all straightened out..."

Cautiously walking towards the scientist, she softly questioned, "What's wrong?"

Like a child who did something wrong, Dr. Baum humbly glanced up at the woman and asked, "Remember when I said you were hired to help the subject's mental stability?"

Blind to where the conversation was leading, she slowly answered, "...Yes."

Dr. Baum took a moment to look her over, as if to debate whether or not to continue. Seeing she had calmed down considerably, he stated, "There are only a handful of us who know you are a psychologist, the majority of the facility believes you're a scientist, just like the rest of us." Once he saw her questioning look, he quickly continued, "The creature is here for research purposes only, its mental state is of no concern to this facility. But, I can assure you, that is no human being in front of you," his last few words uncharacteristically bold. Dr. Harris was astounded by her colleague's ability to go from a nervous twit to knowledgeable scientist at a moment's notice. She quietly looked back at the sleeping subject in the small cot.

Taking Dr. Harris' silence as his cue, Dr. Baum turned and headed towards the door. Once he reached the exit he turned around declaring, "I'll be right outside, you have five minutes before the other scientists arrive."

Looking back at the door just as it closed, Dr. Harris stood in the stark white room speechless. She immediately turned her attention back towards the sleeping creature and kneeled in front of it once again. Her hazel eyes scanned the subject as her instinct and her logic were in a never ending battle. Her instinct told her it was merely a child trapped in a never ending hellhole, while her logic said it was indeed something extraterrestrial. Putting her quarreling mind to rest, she decided to compare it to the thing she knew best...humans.

Its high cheek bones protruded through its pale skin, showing severe malnourishment. Dark purple circles shadowed its eyes, revealing exhaustion. One long scar marred its left cheek, running from the bottom of its eye to its jaw...origin unknown. And its long black hair was slightly matted to its forehead, showing signs of distress even in its sleep. Of course all of these assumptions could easily be thrown out the window, since it was not a human, and comparing it to one was far too presumptuous.

She glanced back at its face, catching something she did not notice before. It was awake. She mentally slapped herself for being so oblivious. Many people would assume it was asleep just like she did, except she was trained to read facial expressions, and its was obvious: 'Please think I'm asleep...don't wake me up'. Whether it was a teenager who wanted to sleep in or a soldier who didn't want to face that day's battle, no one can truly fake sleep.

Realizing her appearance was far too professional, she took down her wavy brunette hair from its loose ponytail and placed her thin rimmed glasses in her pocket. If it opened its eyes she wanted to appear nurturing and caring, an approach she took with most of the patients she met for the first time.

"Hello," she softly said, barely above a whisper. No reaction. She gently placed her hand and its cheek, hoping the soothing touch would help. Even though he didn't flinch, like most people would, he did tense his jaw...a more subtle way to show surprise or discomfort. "Please wake up," she said as she removed her hand from its face.

At those words, its eyes snapped open. Dr. Harris felt shivers tremble down her spine as she looked at its lifeless green eyes. She always used her patients' eyes as a useful tool. Everyone's eyes revealed their emotions...their own personal story, yet its eyes told her nothing. They were a hollow shell revealing no emotion. Hiding her anxiety with a genuine smile, she said, "Hi, I'm Dr. Harris, but you can call me Cassie."

**To Be Continued...**


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

"Hi, I'm Dr. Harris, but you can call me Cassie." The greeting left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she held her smile regardless. There was no response, just a blank stare. Then it dawned on her. She knew relatively nothing about the subject, except for the charts sent in the mail. It may not even know their language. Her eyebrows rose with concern, and she gently asked, "Do you speak English?"

"Yes, ma'am," it whispered, looking down at the bed.

Subtly biting her bottom lip, Dr. Harris quickly realized this was going to be harder than she expected. Sifting her legs under her so she was sitting Indian style, she debated the best way to approach it. Usually she had at least a day to prepare conversations with her patients, but this was thrown in her face with no warning whatsoever. It hadn't even moved since she opened the door, something she immediately took note of. The only sign that it was even alive was its shaky breaths and blank eyes. She looked back up at the creature as it shifted uncomfortably under its sheet.

As she was opening her mouth to say something, its soft voice cut through the air. "I-I'm sorry," it stuttered barely above a whisper.

"What?" she calmly asked, even though her mind was swarming with questions. Half of being a psychologist was reading your patient's facial expressions, but the other half was being able to hide your own.

The blank stare quickly transformed into a growing panic. Looking everywhere around the room except her face, it continued, "L-Loud voices...e-everywhere..." Cassie slowly moved towards it, hoping to console it, but it quickly jerked its head away, its panic escalating. "I-I didn't m...mean to...I tried..." Its breaths were quickly growing unstable. "I-I tried to be good."

"Shhhh..." Cassie whispered as slowly raised her hand. Upon her command, it immediately closed its mouth and looked at her with wide frightened eyes. "I was the one yelling earlier," she slowly explained, remembering when she snapped at Dr. Baum. "It wasn't about you. It's not your fault."

This seemed to calm it down considerably. Noticing it still hadn't moved, she thought it may help if it sat up, so they could look eye to eye, subtly showing they were equals. "Will you sit up for me?" she asked in the same gentle voice with a slight tilt of her head.

"Yes, ma'am," it whispered. Cassie noticed at first it had some trouble, but she decided not to help since it was obviously frightened by human contact. Once it was completely up the thin shin slowly fell off its shoulders, lying gently at its waist. Cassie couldn't help but slightly gasp at what she saw. Its chest was covered in scars with splotches of old dried blood in various places. Its ribs were drastically protruding through its skin. And, in front of it, its wrists were bound together by a thick chain. "Oh my god..." she lipped, still trying to contain herself. There had never been a day in her life where she was speechless so many times.

In front of her, the metallic door slowly opened, revealing Dr. Baum. "It's been five minutes. The scientists are going to be here soon," he declared, looking beyond the subject and directly at her.

Dr. Harris nodded adamantly, and turned her attention towards the subject one last time. "Don't worry, I'll be back later." She waiting a couple seconds for a response she knew she wouldn't get, then stood up and strode towards the door, never looking back.

Back in the outer room with the mysterious green gems in the wall, she turned towards Dr. Baum, wanting an explanation. Dr. Baum skeptically looked at her, oblivious to her rage. She took a deep breath to contain herself. "How long as it been like this?" she asked, her eyebrows raised with concern.

"Like what?" Dr. Baum replied, wondering what happened behind the closed door.

Looking around the room for a second, she desperately tried to control her anger. "It's terrified of everything, and it has scars everywhere," she whispered, even though her voice was clear with vindication.

Nodding in agreement, Dr. Baum nervously paced around the room. "I'm not too sure...I've only been here three months myself."

"What?" Dr. Harris breathed, not believing there was yet another secret her colleague hid from her. Then, through the haze of confusion, she quickly remembered something the doctor told her earlier. "But you said when it arrived it was very intelligent. How would you know if you weren't even here?"

Slowly backing away from the psychologist, Dr. Baum quickly raised his hands as a sign of peace. "I-I read it in its file," he explained, his voice slightly trembling.

Her shoulders relaxing, she closed her eyes for a brief second. "So, what do you know about its background?"

"Virtually...next to nothing," he muttered, almost ashamed of himself. "But I just assumed it's always been mentally unstable. I have noticed a regression since I arrived though. We were hoping you'd be able to tap into that undiscovered realm of intelligence." Slowly exhaling, Dr. Baum gave her a moment to process the information before anxiously continuing, "But we really have to go, now. They are going to be here any minute."

Following the nervous Dr. Baum into the hallway, Dr. Harris processed the great load of information she just received, but if there was one thing she learned in her field it was to never assume.

**To Be Continued...**

**AN:** Don't worry. I'm going to go into Clark's POV in the near future. I'm just still debating on the best way to do it. Italicized thoughts, or the same way I've been revealing Dr. Harris' POV, or something else... Any suggestions will be greatly appreciated.


	5. Chapters 4 and 5

**Chapter 4:**

Frustrated with dead ends, Dr. Harris sat in the center of scattered papers and folders. The once pristine office was now cluttered with half opened drawers and titled files. Her hair tied back in a sensible ponytail and her glasses pulled down to the end of her nose, the psychologist continued to flip though the endless piles of papers. It seemed impossible that a room filled with so much documentation, could have so little on one subject's background. Yet, here she was, going on six hours, reading and rereading the files, and had yet found an inkling of information. It was as if the subject crashed down from some planet called Krypton, something she read from file eighteen, and was immediately sent to this facility. It was a thought she would have been willing to believe, except for the dates didn't add up. The meteor shower that supposedly brought the creature happened fourteen years ago, yet Dr. Baum stated they've only had the subject for less than a year. Where was the missing thirteen years?

Dr. Harris instantly snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the door creak open for the millionth time. Her lie practiced to perfection four hours ago, she wasn't even fazed by the skeptical look the scientist gave her when looked down at her from the doorway. She quickly pushed up her glasses and rose to her feet. "Hello, I'm Dr. Harris, a new scientist here," she greeted as she politely extended her hand. The stranger hesitantly shook her hand, but his eyes never left the mess around her. Pretending to be flustered, she continued, "Oh...yes! This..." she said with slight nervous laughter for dramatic effect. "Before I joined your team I wanted to make sure I knew as much as a could about the subject." On cue, she flashed her newly laminated ID in front of him, quelling any questions that may come. "Don't worry I'll have it all cleaned up within a matter of hours."

His dark brown eyes finally leaving the piles of papers, he looked up at her and skeptically said, "Well, I must congratulate you on your...initiative." He looked back at the now destroyed gray filing cabinet in the corner. "I need file forty-seven B. Do you have any idea where you put it?"

Subtly biting her bottom lip, Dr. Harris pretended to ponder before exclaiming, "Oh, yes! Of course!" She knelt down to a small pile to the left on her. She immediately picked up the manila folder and handed it to the doctor, secretly thanking her photographic memory.

Obviously shocked by her organization in the seemingly destroyed room, he congratulated, "Oh...very good. I guess I'll be seeing you around. Good-bye." He placed the folder under his arm and quickly left the room.

Sighing with relief, Dr. Harris placed a strand of hair behind her ear, praying that would be her last interruption. She immediately turned her attention back towards the files, her determination quickly draining. Out of frustration, she charged towards one to the cabinets and yanked out an already crooked drawer, letting the contents drop on the floor with a loud bang. Feeling depleted, she leaned her head against the top of the cabinet and placed her hands in the now empty compartment inside.

She instantly picked up her head, a realization sinking in. Without looking, she traced her fingers along the thick feeling paper that was raised slightly from the cold metal shelf. Holding her breath, she looked down to find a manila folder taped against the smooth shelf. Anticipation was bubbling inside her as she gently peeled back the scotch tape and removed the folder. Praying her search was now over, she slowly opened it and peered inside, as if the contents were somehow dangerous to her health.

Cassie felt her heart drop to her stomach as her hazel eyes widened with shock. Falling in the chair behind her, she pulled the contents out, the folder drifting to the ground. She blinked back tears as she fingered the old tattered photograph. In her shaking hand was a picture of a young boy. His dark curly hair subtly blowing in the wind as he joyfully smiled about something unknown. Yet the one thing that caught Dr. Harris' attention was the vibrant green eyes...eyes that told a hidden story of happiness and compassion. Even the small twinkle of loneliness could not suppress his pure innocence and enthusiasm.

Breaking her thoughts away from the disturbing photograph, Dr. Harris glanced at the single sheet of paper that accompanied the picture. Hesitantly reading over the new found information, she grabbed a piece of scrap paper and scribbled down notes with her favorite blue pen, before she placed the picture and paper back in the folder.

Less than an hour later she left the spotless office, reconsidering everything she once believed in.

**To Be Continued...**

oOo

**Chapter 5:**

Nervously pacing around the small foyer outside the alien's cell, Dr. Harris scolded herself endlessly on how she could be so naïve. Never before had she been on such a roller coaster of emotions, all happening in less than twenty-four hours. She was used to being calm and collected, always knowing what to say and never failing to act, yet this case...this child may be beyond her help. She never felt so insignificant in her whole life. Leaning against the wall, she fingered one of the green gems protruding slightly. Kryptonite...his only weakness, yet it was scattered everywhere.

Knowing she was the only one left in the facility at such a late hour, she boldly opened the piece of paper she kept in her pocket. Skimming through the facts once again, she quickly memorized the information and tossed it in the shredder. She could not risk someone else finding out what she knew. There was a reason the information was kept secret, hidden from the eyes of everyone else. Even though such personal information seemed trivial to the naïve scientists, she knew it would the key to her success.

Dr. Harris removed her ponytail and placed her glasses in her chest pocket. Gathering her confidence, she walked through the metal door, leading to the alien's cell. Blinking against the harsh florescent light, she scanned the room, only to find the cot empty and the boy huddled in the corner. As she approached him, she looked over his broken state. The thin sheet was wrapped tightly around him, and he was clearly clutching it as if his life depended on it. His legs were brought up to his chest, with his head leaning against his knees. He was clearly trembling through the sheet, and every once in a while his bare feet would twitch against the cold floor.

Kneeling in front of him, Cassie avoided all contact, knowing how much it frightened him. Her hazel eyes already twinkling with tears, she softly said, "Clark," recalling the name from the now shredded piece of paper. He visibly twitched at the word, but there was no response. "It's me, Cassie. Remember?"

"Yes, ma'am," he breathed, never looking up.

"I'm not going to hurt you, please look at me," she calmly asked, knowing eye contact was crucial for their relationship. At her command, Clark immediately looked up, his fear evident. Noticing his trembling increased, she retracted, "If it makes you too uncomfortable you don't have to look at me. I just wanted to see those pretty green eyes of yours," she slightly smiled. They had made the initial eye contact, subconsciously showing they were equals, now she just needed to make him as comfortable as possible.

Confused by her compliment, Clark furrowed his eyebrows and bit his lip. Glancing nervously around the room, his mind was at a constant war. Which answer was the right one? The doctor said to look at her, yet now she was going back on her word. Which did she want him to do? Holding his breath, he glanced back at her kind face, praying the right answer would be evident from her expression.

Seeing the frightened look in his eyes, Cassie tried to console him, "You can look back down if you want to..." Immediately he placed his head on his knees, his tense shoulders slightly relaxing. Unbeknownst to Clark, Cassie gave him perplexed look, trying to analyze what exactly he was so scared of. Changing the subject, she asked, "Can you tell me about your house?" The questioned seemed simple enough, yet the answer could give her an infinite amount of information on his background.

"I-I came from Krypton," he slightly stuttered, yet his voice, though soft, was the louder than usual.

Surprised by the answer, Cassie softly said, "No..." He instantly flinched, bracing himself against a blow that never came. "I mean your house on Earth...your home."

He immediately looked up at her, his green eyes twinkling with tears. For a split second, Cassie could clearly see the boy she saw in the picture, his eyes longing for hope. But as quickly as it came it disappeared, replaced with the lifeless shell. Looking away from her, he slowly shook his head, muttering, "I have no home."

Placing a hand on his shoulder, she whispered, "Yes, you do."

"I-I have no home...no home..." Clark whispered. 'You're an insignificant...thing!' a loud voice echoed throughout the room. Grabbing at the blanket, Clark shut his eyes and burrowed his head his head behind his knees. 'Nobody wanted you! You have no home!' a stronger voice shouted. Shivering, Clark agreed, praying the tormentors would leave. "...no home..." he whispered over and over.

Shocked by Clark's sudden withdrawal, Cassie slowly rubbed his shoulder. "Clark...nobody's going to hurt you. No one's here besides me." His constant mumbling continued. Becoming worried, she moved in front of him. With both hands she patted the rough material of his pants against his shins, hoping the contact would snap him out of the trance. "Clark," she called her voice strong. "It's just me. Open your eyes."

At the command, he snapped his eyes open. The loud voices immediately disappeared and he was staring into the kind doctor's face. She looked back with him, not with anger or fear, but with compassion. She slowly reached over and cupped her hand around his face. He instinctively flinched but slowly relaxed.

"Clark, can you hear me?" Cassie asked, her thumb gently rubbing his cheek.

"Yes, ma'am," he breathed, his heart still pounding from the flashback.

Her hazel eyes sparkling, Cassie smiled and said, "I told you before, you can call me Cassie."

Slightly cautious, he lipped, "Cassie." And for the first time since his arrival, he felt safe.

**To Be Continued...**

**AN:** Someone asked for my updates to be longer, and I thought it was a reasonable request so I decided to put the next two chapters together. Sorry if that was confusing. Thanks for all the lovely reviews and suggestions! I hope this chapter lived up to everyone's expectations.


	6. Chapters 6 and 7

**Chapter 6:**

Dr. Harris stealthily walked out of the small foyer into the hallway, slowly closing the door behind her. "So, how is it?" a voice echoed behind her. She instantly jumped and placed a hand over her heart.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Dr. Baum said, holding his hands up, as he backed away from the frightened woman.

"That's okay," Dr. Harris breathed. She closed her eyes for a moment to control her emotions before facing the other doctor. "What was your question?" she asked as she placed her thin glasses on her face.

Earnestly taking a step forward, he repeated, "How is it? Is there hope?"

Tying her hair back, Dr. Harris took a moment before answering the question, finding the best way to phrase it. "With a lot of help it should be able to get its mentality back."

Nervously stroking his goatee, Dr. Baum questioned, "And by mentality you mean..."

"Its frame of mind," she answered bluntly, thinking it was obvious.

"And its intelligence...?" the scientist pressed, gesturing her to continue.

Mentally taken aback from his question, Cassie just blinked a few times, never letting her guard down. After her session with Clark she had momentarily forgotten why she was called to the facility in the first place. Her voice cloaked with confidence she replied, "Oh yes, of course. H-...Its intelligence should return simultaneously with its grip on reality."

Not noticing Dr. Harris's fumble, Dr. Baum slowly nodded. "Very good. How long to you expect it to take?"

Dr. Harris visibly squinted, trying to recall all the observations she made with conversing with Clark. Subtly shaking her head, she said softly, "It's impossible to tell, at the least a couple months."

His pale blue eyes blinking with surprise, the scientist's jaw slightly dropped. "A-A couple months!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing down the vacant hallway.

"This isn't a science project, Dr. Baum," the psychologist replied sternly, placing her hands on her hips. "The human mind is a very fragile thing, sometimes it takes years to reconstruct it."

Shocked by his colleague's choice of words, Dr. Baum found his inner well of confidence and replied, "Our subject is not human. Please, don't forget that."

Frustrated with the scientist's blatant ignorance, Cassie surrendered. "I'm tried, Dr. Baum. I'll see you tomorrow." She let out a long sigh before turning and walking towards the exit.

The next morning, Dr. Harris strode down the immaculate hallway, exhausted and depleted. When she awoke that morning she was as worn-out as the night before, stress burdening her mind too much to relax. The psychologist was never one for coffee, knowing it was more the human's subconscious dependence to caffeine that woke them up more than the actual substance, but today she knew, if offered a cup, she wouldn't refuse. Luckily, the facility seemed to be as anti-caffeine as she was, since there wasn't a pot in sight. Not having an office of her own, she walked into the infamous public office where she spent six hours the day before searching through files. Her mind needed a break from the constant abnormalities, and any place familiar was certainly welcomed.

It was almost noon, and the building was as busy as ever. Numerous doctors ran about, gathering their daily information on their so-called 'subject'. Exhaling loudly, Cassie slowly closed her eyes and tensed every muscle in her body before slowly relaxing it. Listening to her rhythmic breaths, she was able to block out all outside noises and found her inner realm of security. After a couple minutes she slowly opened her eyes, amazingly feeling revived and invigorated.

Exiting the office, she politely smiled at a couple scientists passing by before continuing her destination to nowhere in particular. Since none of the other scientists knew what her true purpose was, she was only allowed to 'work' at night. Yet, in order to completely perform her job, she would have to find out more information about her patient's current living conditions, therefore secretly observing the tests performed within the facility.

As Dr. Harris strode down the hallway, pretending she was in a hurry, a faint noise caught her attention. Concentrating, she subtly turned her head towards the door she passed. She slowly pulled down her glasses, her hazel eyes twinkling with disbelief. It was...screaming. Her mouth slightly agape, she carelessly swung the door open, only to be floored by what was on the other side.

A couple scientists stood, two male and one female, with their clipboards in hand, hastily jotting down vital information. Beyond them was a large sheet of glass, revealing a small white room with what seemed to be an operating table stationed in the middle. Several doctors, dressed in surgical gowns surrounded the metal table, yet straight ahead was Clark, bound and sliced open across his stomach, like some type of lab rat. Not believing her eyes, Cassie brought a shaky hand up to her mouth.

Realizing there was another presence in the room, the female scientist turned around, surprisingly calm by Dr. Harris's reaction. "Don't worry, it can't see us," she stated, her monotone voice echoing off the walls.

"Th-this..." Cassie stuttered, her hand slowly moving down her neck.

The female scientist moved past her two colleagues, who were obviously too transfixed by the experiment to notice. Placing a cold hand on Dr. Harris's shoulder, she said, her eyes wild with fervor, "My reaction was the same when I saw the results."

Cassie looked at her incredulously as the scientist genuinely smiled. She couldn't believe someone could naively interpret her horror-filled tears as tears of joy. Licking her lips, she could only nod in response. Watching the heartless doctor return to work, Cassie slipped out of the room, subtly swallowing the bile rising in her throat. A new goal set, she walked down the hallway, a plan for Clark's escape already formulating in her mind.

**To Be Continued...**

oOo

**Chapter 7:**

The small desk lamp her only source of light, Dr. Harris glanced over her notes. She slightly smiled to herself at how unprofessional they truly looked. Scribbled down in blue ink and on a torn sheet of computer paper, it could easily be mistaken as a worthless piece of trash. Even through it was just a precautionary step in case she ever misplaced it, she knew it still resembled the way her observations usually looked. She was never one for taking a lot of notes, mostly because of her photographic memory, but partly because she didn't trust her own mind. Most of psychology was based on hypothesis and observations, usually needing a trail and error approach. Once something was written down on paper it looked far too definite and could easily be perceived fact, which is why 'possible' and 'likely' was often used in her written vocabulary.

She looked back down at the torn sheet of paper. 'Name: Clark aka: It.' Originally she wrote down the 'nickname' to mock the other scientists, but after seeing the horrible dissection, she quickly scratched out the nickname with her blue pen. She slowly continued reading. 'Fears human contact and hates threatening movements, no matter how subtle they make appear. Avoids questions and doesn't speak until spoken to. May have slight hallucinations. Possible paranoia.'

Sighing she looked back up and walked towards the large metallic door. Bracing herself for another session, she placed her hand on the doorknob.

oOo

People...everywhere. They're gone. They left. They left him alone, only to be replaced by a numbing pain. When they were there, the pain was sharp and clear, but once they leave their presence still lingered on by a vague throbbing rippling over his muscles. He never decided which was worse. He supposed he never would. Maybe one day it would end. He quickly shook his head, ridding himself of the thought. The people were all that ever existed, there was nothing before that and there's nothing beyond. Thinking about anything beyond was bad, and he wanted to be good. He tried to be good. Maybe if they told him what he did wrong, then he could try harder. But it wasn't their fault, it was never their fault. He should know by now. He should know what they expected. Maybe one day it will become clear to him. Yes, one day he'll be good.

He flinched at the sound of the door. He mentally scolded himself. They didn't like it when he was scared of them. They wanted him to be cold and emotionless. Flinching was bad. If he was good he wouldn't flinch. There were slow footsteps coming towards him. He slowly tensed, bracing himself against another flinch. There was suddenly someone in front him, looking at him with kind hazel eyes.

"Clark..." The name echoed throughout his ears. He only blinked. That wasn't his name. He didn't have a name. He didn't deserve a name. He wasn't human. A slow, cautious hand moved towards him. He tensed his jaw, trying his hardest not to move away. He squeezed his eyes shut when the hand touched him. It felt odd. The hand wasn't stiff or menacing; it wasn't even covered with a glove. Instead it was warm and soft. "Don't you remember me?" the calm voice said.

Biting her lip, Cassie looked at Clark curiously. He seemed nervous and scared, like the first time she met him. It was as if his short term memory lapsed, something not uncommon but very hard to permanently fix. "Think really hard..." she said barely above a whisper. She held her hand still on his cheek and slowly rubbed her thumb under his eye, just like she did the previous night.

As if triggering his mind, he snapped his eyes open and lipped, "Cassie."

"Very good," she encouraged while smiling. Placing a strand of his hair behind his ear, she asked, "How are you feeling?" His eyes immediately widened with panic.

The questioned repeated itself in his mind. An answer, he needed an answer...quick. What was his answer? It was a trick question. No...there were never trick questions. He just never knew the answer. It was his fault, not theirs. What if he said 'bad'? A loud voice echoed throughout the room. 'What! Are these living conditions not good enough for you? Does the alien need more!' Flinching against the voice, he reconsidered. What if he said 'good'? Once again the ominous voice answered. 'Oh...you feel 'good'? Are you mocking us? We can change that for you!' Neither was the right answer. He didn't know the right answer.

Cassie was stunned by Clark's sudden transformation. His eyes were squeezed tightly as he constantly flinched against something unknown. She could see his hands gathering the blanket towards him as the cot began to rattle with his trembling. "Clark!" she said louder than she intended to, becoming increasingly worried. She slowly smoothed his hair back, trying to comfort him any way possible.

His eyes snapped open, still wide with terror. "I-I d-d-don't know," he stuttered, swallowing afterward.

"It's okay..." she said, slowly nodding. "It's just me. I'm not going to hurt you."

'What do you mean you 'don't know'!' the voice hollered. Clark immediately brought his hands up, protecting himself from imaginary blows.

Cassie immediately brought a hand up to her mouth, seeing the chains still wrapped around his wrists. "Clark..." she whispered as she traced her fingers over the cold metal, not believing she blind to them under the sheet.

"I-I don't k-know..." he repeated, still fighting against the invisible foe.

Sitting on the cot in front of him, Cassie whispered with tears in her eyes, "Please...calm down. Nothing's going to hurt you." Once again she placed her hand on his face and slowly rubbed his cheek with her thumb.

He cautiously opened his eyes, and followed her tear-filled gaze towards his chained wrists. He lifted his hand up to get a better look at her. Thinking he was the cause of her pain, he whispered, "I'm sorry," his voice surprisingly calm.

Scooting further onto the bed, she breathed, "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Clark cautiously placed his head against her lap, as she continued to smooth back his tangled hair. Still blinking back tears, she couldn't help but smile at his subtle sign of trust. They remained silent for a couple minutes, each of them listening to the other one's breaths. "You're nice..." he whispered, before drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

Looking down at him, she smiled, realizing the courage it took for him to speak before being spoken to. "I'm going to get you home..." she breathed, swearing she saw glimpse of a smile appear on his lips.

**To Be Continued...**

**AN: **So Clark's POV...good, bad, okay? Please comment.


	7. Chapters 8 and 9

**Chapter 8:**

A week later, Dr. Harris strode through the entrance, wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. Everything was ready, and if it went smoothly Clark would be home before the sun rose. Her footsteps echoing throughout the vacant facility, she walked through the hallways, scanning every room to make sure she was alone. It was just a precautionary step, but she knew sometimes Dr. Baum would stay after to gather more information after her sessions. Turning away from his empty office, she was glad she wouldn't have to put off the rescue for another day.

Her mission now going into phase two, Dr. Harris casually strode towards the power control room and stealthily opened the door. Seeing there was no one inside she smiled to herself, knowing the facility's overconfidence was finally going to pay off. She glanced over what looked like the control panel for a spaceship. There must have been over a dozen televisions displaying the identical hallways and twisting corridors. Tracing her fingers over the hundreds of buttons before her, she prayed a large red button stating 'off' would magically appear before her. Growing impatient, she opted for the second choice and turned her attention towards the large plug to her right. She dramatically pulled it out of its socket, sighing with relief as she heard the constant electrical buzzing throughout the facility die.

With their security out of her mind, there was only one more thing to worry about...Clark. Clark's sessions varied like a roller coaster. Some nights he would show much improvement and join her in a small conversation about nothing in particular, then the next night he would be frightened and unresponsive, completely withdrawn from reality. Praying the gods would smile upon her, she hastily entered his cell, wanting to get him out of there before fate caught up with them.

Subconsciously she was thrown off by the darkness overwhelming the room. Over the past week she had grown used to the harsh florescent light, and now she couldn't see two feet in front of her. "Clark..." she called out, hoping he would answer. She knew it was a false hope. He never spoke until she initiated direct contact. Whether it was a pat on the shoulder or the more favorable thumb rub against his cheek, he felt more comfortable once he was sure it was her. "Clark, it's me, Cassie. Please answer," she called again, searching through the darkness for his silhouette.

"H-H-Here," he stammered, barely above a whisper, from the far corner.

With her hands cautiously placed out in front of her, she followed the voice. Once she found the wall she slid down on her knees. Blinking against the darkness, she slowly reached out towards the shaking silhouette in front of her. Hearing a slight whimper escape his lips, she assured, "Clark, its Cassie. Don't worry. I'm going to get you out of here." She placed her hand on his face and rubbed his cheek with her thumb, hoping the familiarity would calm him down a bit.

Trembling under her touch, he whispered, "W-Why is it dark?" It was never dark. There was always light everywhere, but not a warm, comforting light. It was bright and harsh, very hard to ignore.

Even though Clark couldn't see it, Cassie smiled at his subtle sign of improvement. It was the first time he directly asked her a question. Even though it was out of fear, he was showing a great deal of internal courage. She decided to reward him with absolute honesty. "It's dark because I don't want anyone to see us escape."

Clark slowly bit his bottom lip, confused by her last statement. "Escape from what?"

Sure time was catching up with her, Cassie quickly retracted, "Don't worry about it. Just follow me, okay?" Not waiting for an answer, she slowly stood up and reached out her hand. "Can you stand?" Hesitantly placing his hands in hers, he slowly rose to his feet. Instantly feeling the cold metal wrapped around his wrists, Cassie made a mental note to get the pliers out of her trunk before they left. She slowly guided him towards the large metal door. Placing her hand on the doorknob, she felt Clark become tense with fear under her grip. "What's wrong?" she asked as she turned towards him.

Looking sheepishly up from the ground, his green eyes twinkled through the darkness. "H-Hurts..." he breathed, before looking back at the floor.

Having forgotten about the kryptonite embedded in the walls, Cassie mentally slapped herself. "Of course..." she whispered. Clark was just beginning to trust her; if she directly caused him pain it could stunt his emotional growth. Running out of options, she slowly lifted his head with her hand. "Look at me," she said calmly as she tilted her head. "When I open this door it's going to hurt, and I'm very very sorry, but soon it will all be over. Okay?" She knew she was talking to him like a young child, something she usually frowned upon, but in this particular case, she felt it was necessary for him to completely understand.

Slowly nodding, he replied, "Okay."

Placing her hand on the doorknob she counted, "One...two," giving him a moment to prepare. "Three!" She pushed the door open, unaware of the stone's true effect on him. He was now dead weight in her arms. The reports stated the meteor rocks disabled him momentarily, but they never mentioned it left him completely defenseless. The rocks within the room now radiating a sickly green, Cassie hovered over the fallen boy. "Clark, hang on," she said, her voice fringed with worry. Locking his arms under hers, she slowly dragged him out of the room, trying her best to ignore his painful groans. Once they were in the hallway, she gently placed him on the floor and ran to close the door. Placing her hand over her heart, she looked back at Clark, who was leaning against the wall still catching his breath.

Cassie immediately dropped down to her knees. Cupping his face with her hands, she breathed, "It's over." Overwhelmed with emotions, she began to blink back tears. "I'm so proud of you."

Even though he had no idea what her words truly meant, Clark couldn't ignore the strong urge to smile. "Thank you."

**To Be Continued...**

oOo

**Chapter 9:**

As the yellow sun lazily peeked through the countryside, a black sedan streaked down a country road, intent on completing its mission. Within it silently sat a young woman, whose thoughts continually swarmed her head, leaving her shaky and restless. The previous night continually played over in her head, something was off. It was way too easy. Part of her still couldn't believe she had actually gotten away with it.

She glanced sideways towards the boy who was constantly rubbing his raw wrists. His head was bent forward, his long, dark hair covering his face. As if sensing her stare, he subtly peered through his tangled strands, his shaky breaths slowly increasing. Clutching the filthy sheet he dragged out of the facility, he breathed, "W-where are we?"

Looking back towards the road, Cassie bluntly answered, "We're in my car."

Accepting the answer, Clark glanced back down at his hands for a brief moment before asking, "Why?"

The question slightly startled Cassie. Blinking for a couple seconds, she thought of the best way to answer without sounding condescending. "We escaped that horrible laboratory. Don't you remember?"

Furrowing his brow, Clark thought over the past couple hours. It was dark, not bright like it usually was. There was a person...with hazel eyes. Cassie...yes, it was Cassie. She opened a door. Green...everywhere. It felt like someone was stabbing him with thousands of knives. Green knives...like the ones the people use. The people...they'll be angry. He's not where he's supposed to be. 'You'll never escape!' a loud, harsh voice echoed around him. 'There is nothing beyond this!' Shaking, he brought his sheet closer to him, bunching the material in tight fists. A second voice called out to him, yet this one was softer...kinder. "Clark!"

She merely spoke his name, still waiting for a response, but he looked up at her like she yelled at him. Immediately noticing his pale face and shaky breaths, she whispered, "It's okay..." With one hand still on the wheel, she reached over and smoothed back his damp hair. "I was just wondering if you remembered." Swallowing the lump in his throat, he simply nodded.

"Okay, good," she confirmed, softly rubbing his cheek before removing her hand. She took one last glance at her mapquest directions, positive the property should be appearing at any moment. The golden sun highlighting the landscape, Cassie immediately slowed down as a lone mailbox appeared in the distance. She turned onto the gravel driveway, under the wooden plank with 'Kent Farm' engraved on it. "I guess this is it..." she muttered as she pulled to a stop.

Growing up in Metropolis, Cassie only heard about the quaint attitude in the little town called Smallville. She glanced around at the large, red barn and yellow farmhouse surrounded by sunflowers. It seemed like utopia compared to the harsh confines of the facility. "Does any of this look familiar?" she breathed, still taken away by its pure perfection. After several moments of silence, she looked over at Clark, who was mesmerized with the scene in front of him. "Clark..." she urged, as she placed a hand on his shoulder. Snapping out of his stupor, he immediately jumped and looked at Cassie with tears in his eyes. "So you remember..." she whispered.

Clark sadly shook his head. "M-My dreams..." he whispered. Rubbing his wrists, he continued, "Long t-time ago..." He glanced back up at Cassie. "But they st-stopped. So long..." He turned his head towards the window and placed his hand on the cold glass. "It's real," he breathed, his voice clear with wonder.

At a lost for words, Cassie just nodded, not wanting to intervene. Clark needed time to be alone. She didn't want to disturb his memories with her presence. "Wait here..." she whispered as she stepped out of the car.

As if on cue, when she closed the car door, the front porch door swung open, revealing a middle-aged man dressed in a blue flannel shirt. Jogging down the porch steps, he curiously asked, "Can I help you?" He awkwardly smiled afterward, showing he meant the question as greeting, not a threat.

Placing her keys in her jean pocket, Cassie casually walked towards the man. Glancing at the farmer as he slipped worn-out gloves on his hands, she debated how much information she should reveal. For all she knew, he could be the man who sent Clark to the laboratory to begin with. Mentally scolding herself for not preparing in the slightest bit, she stammered, "Um...yes, actually you can."

Straightening out the yellow glove, he asked, "With what, miss?"

Placing a strand of her wavy brunette hair behind her ear, she started, "You see...I'm a psychologist." She nervously bit her bottom lip as confusion continued to grow on the man's face. "And I found this...boy."

All color immediately drained from the Jonathan's face. His blue eyes wide with hope, he placed a shaky hand on the woman's shoulder. "W-Where?"

Side glancing at the black sedan, she continued, "He-" She never had a chance to finish the sentence.

Jonathan followed her glanced towards the car. His breath caught in his throat. "Clark," he lipped, seeing his son in the front seat. Before his mind even knew what he was doing, he raced towards the car and threw the side door open. Crouching down, he peered inside the car, his heart so full of relief he never noticed the fearful look in his son's eyes. "Clark," he said, his voice cracking with joy. Blinking back tears, he placed his gloved hand within the car.

His wide, frightened eyes never leaving the hand, Clark scrambled backwards across the seats. "Clark, it's me, D-Dad," Jonathon stammered as he retracted his hand. Shocked, he finally heard the voice calling behind him.

"Mr. Kent, please," the woman's voice begged as she grabbed his shoulder. Stunned beyond words, Jonathan turned around, looking for any type of explanation from the young woman. Deeply sighing, she slowly removed her hand from his shoulder. "He's...hurt."

**To Be Continued...**

**AN: **Re-reading part of the story, I've discovered somethings didn't quite add up (that's what I get for trying improv), but of course that's just me overanalyzing everything. But, just in case, if you have ANY questions or find ANY loopholes, please state them and I'll try to fix it in the next chapter. Thanks!


	8. Chapters 10 and 11

**Chapter 10:**

Life was especially hard for Martha Kent after her son's disappearance. It was an ordinary Saturday when it happened. She was in the kitchen, preparing for dinner when her son came inside, dirt smeared from head to toe. Wiping his brow, he headed towards the faucet for a fresh glass of water. "Clark Kent," she scolded as she eyed him from the stove. "You better take those shoes off," she warned, smelling the mud from across the room.

Immediately kicking them off, he said, "Sorry, Mom." He hung his head, even though there was a glimmer of a smile.

Smiling in return, she joked, "That's okay. I forgive you." Watching her son head towards the faucet again, she said, "I just made fresh lemonade if you want some."

"Are you giving June Cleaver a run for her money again?" he replied as a smile lit up his face. It was a new inside joke between the two of how Martha couldn't help but constantly care for her family, much like the unrealistic fifties housewife.

Already pouring him a glass, she defended, "I just can't help it. Mother's instinct."

"Is it okay if I head over to the Talon for a bit?" he randomly asked, even though it was obviously on his mind for a while.

"You just have to be home by six, okay? I'm making my infamous pot roast."

After gulping down the glass, he messily wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Not a minute later," he said before he bolted out the door. Rolling her eyes, Martha had no idea it was the last time she would see her son.

Now lying in her bed, Martha blinked back a few tears that were begging to fall. She lost count how many times she replayed the scene in her head, seeing if there was something...anything she could change. Something that would make her son stay home that day, instead of leaving their lives forever. It was days like this one that made her not even want to get out of bed. Turning over on her side, she glanced at the clock. It was only a little after six, yet Jonathan was already up, burying himself with farm work again. Lex even sent help over a couple days a week, knowing Jonathan couldn't run the farm on his own, but still every waking hour he was in the barn, finding another pointless task to complete. Sighing, she buried her head in her pillow, praying for one more minute of a dreamless sleep, before she had to get up and face the day.

Suddenly, her name snapped her out of her reverie. "Martha!" Blinking her eyes against the morning sun, she slowly sat up, moaning slightly as she ran her hand through her tangled hair. "Martha!" Jonathan called again. This time the urgency in his voice finally registered in her tired mind.

Adrenaline now pumping through her veins, Martha jumped out of bed, and bolted towards the stairs. "Jonathan, what's wrong?" she called back, her voice cracking with concern. Not waiting for an answer, she jogged down the steps, only to be stopped by her husband at the last step. "What is it?" she asked, her eyes frantically looking for an answer. For a split second she thought of Clark...is he okay? She instantly shook the thought out of her mind, her heart breaking a bit more. He was gone. She knew that.

Her husband put a trembling hand on her shoulder, his blue eyes already blinking back tears. "What happened?" she breathed, preparing herself for the worse.

"Martha, you have to listen to me," he said softly, his voice raspy for some unknown reason. Martha could only nod, her breath still with worry. "Someone came by the house today. She brought a boy with her. He has no memory of anything beyond the past several months," he said slowly, knowing otherwise Martha would jump at the chance to see Clark, just like he did. After pausing for a moment to contain all the emotions welling up inside up him, he breathed, "Its Clark."

Her heart momentarily stopped, and Martha's eyes instantly left her husbands, scanning the house for Clark. She placed a shaky hand over her mouth when she saw him on the couch in the living room with his back towards her. All of her husband's warnings left her mind as she dashed towards him, tears already pouring out of her eyes. Rounding the couch, she almost crashed into the invisible doctor as she reached for her son.

"Clark..." Martha whispered, her voice cracking with pure happiness. She was only inches away from enveloping him in her arms when a hand stopped her. She followed the arm up to a woman's face. Martha's face wrinkled in bewilderment, wondering why this stranger would prevent her from touching her son.

"Mrs. Kent, I'm Dr. Harris, the woman who brought Clark here," Cassie meekly introduced, as if apologizing to the distraught mother. "I know this may be hard for you, but Clark is slightly...unstable. I'm afraid another breakdown may be detrimental to his health," she explained, remember how long it took to calm Clark down after his encounter with Mr. Kent.

Martha instantly looked towards Clark, for the first time noticing his weakened state. He sat perfectly still next to the woman, clutching a dirty sheet as if his life depended on it. His head was bent forward, his long, straggly hair covering his face. The only noise that filled the room was his shaky, uneven breaths. Martha immediately sank to her knees, not believing the sight before her.

"He's been through a lot the past year," the doctor softly stated.

Martha glanced up at Jonathan, who was now standing beside her, silently asking if it was true. His eyes never leaving her face, he simply nodded, as if sensing her question.

Breaking through the awkward silence, Dr. Harris calmly stated, "Mr. and Mrs. Kent, I would like to talk to you about your son's condition."

**To Be Continued...**

oOo

**Chapter 11:**

Looking up from her hands, Dr. Harris glanced across the table at the two anxious parents. Sighing, she took a moment to gather her thoughts, before continuing with the hardest part of her job. She slightly detached herself from her words, but only enough to not get overly emotional. "Over the past year, Clark has been trapped in a science research facility where they performed monstrous experiments on them," she calmly said. She never once looked at the Kent's eyes, knowing if she did she wouldn't able to finish. Instead she opted for looking at the space in between their eyebrows, that way it gives the illusion she was looking directly at them, without her having to do so. "I was called in a week ago to psychoanalyze him, so they could tap into his 'inner realm of intelligence'. But once I saw the dehumanization he went through on a daily basis, I knew I had to do something."

Martha immediately glanced towards her sleeping boy on the couch. Looking back, she whispered, "Thank you," tears silently streaming down her face.

Thrown off guard by the woman's words, Dr. Harris looked directly at her, immediately looking away afterwards. There was so much relief in the mother's eyes; she didn't want to burden her with anything else. Slowly taking off her thin-rimmed glasses, she knew she was about the face the biggest challenge of her life. In order to do so, she couldn't continue with the professional façade anymore. "Before I leave, there's several things I want to tell you. Hopefully, this will make the transformation easier for the both of you."

Placing her elbows on the table, Cassie continued, her voice breaking with every word, "From what I can tell, Clark's has completely lost his identity. At the...laboratory, he didn't have a name, mostly referred to as 'it' and 'the alien'. Because of this, he doesn't respond to the name 'Clark', but there is still some recognition in his eyes, which is a very good sign. I advise to call him 'Clark' at any chance you get. Re-teach him. He may even start answering by the end of the month."

Before continuing with her next point, She paused a moment for the parents to briefly think over her words. "Unfortunately, loss of identity doesn't just mean loss of a name. After constantly being called 'it', he feels like he is a second-class citizen. You may notice he'll call you 'ma'am and sir'. Stop this immediately. Calmly tell him that he can call you 'mom and dad'. Since he has a desire to follow 'his superior's' orders, he'll probably start doing it immediately, but it will take a while for the titles to sink in. Another side-effect is that he will constantly apologize, even for things he didn't do. Once again, stop this as soon as possible, but at the same time never raise your voice or sound too stern, it will just terrify him more."

Finding her inner source of strength, she plowed onward, "As you have probably noticed, he is suffering from significant memory loss. He doesn't remember ever living here, but a very promising sign is that he has dreamt about it, therefore the memory hasn't been completely lost. This will make your job a thousand times easier, since he already looks at this house as his sanctuary. The part that worries me is that he may not believe that it's...real. He seems to constantly question what's in front of him, which leads me to believe that he may be suffering from slight schizophrenia. Unfortunately, he also seems to be suffering from short term memory loss. Shockingly, this will be harder to 'fix' than his long term memory. There have been instances where he forgets where he is or what he's doing. Since he is afraid to directly ask questions, it's important for you to ask them. Randomly ask as calmly as possible, 'Where are you?' But stray away from yes-or-no questions, since if he has forgotten he will be petrified of what will happen if he says 'no'."

Biting her bottom lip, Cassie glanced towards Clark for a second, trying to remember another point. Seeing the filthy sheet still wrapped around him, she warned, "No matter how much you may want to, don't throw away that blanket. You definitely want to wash it, but do it while he's asleep. There has been some regression in his mind. He treats the sheet much like a toddler would treat his security blanket. It may sound odd, but he realizes when he has the sheet, he's safe, no one is hurting him. For now, my advice to you is to let him have the sheet around him as much as he wants to. This may give him a much needed feeling of control."

She hesitated, giving the parents a chance to let everything sink in. "There's one more thing," she said, her grave tone warning the Kents about the words to come. "Even though Clark is petrified of the human touch, it is crucial that when you communicate with him you initialize some type of contact. This is because he no longer trusts his visual and auditory senses, probably due to the form of brainwashing they subjected him to when he first arrived."

Martha's head immediately shot upward. "B-Brainwashing?" she stuttered at first but finished strong.

Thrown off by the silent mother's voice, Cassie looked up into Martha's eyes. Never breaking eye contact she replied, "Y-yes, it isn't plainly stated in the documents, but form Clark's behavior and some blank areas in the files, I-I can only put two and two together." Even though her face was set in determination, her voice constantly quivered as her emotions continually overruled her thoughts. She silently watched as Jonathan placed his hand Martha's shoulder, trying to console her. "Under times of stress, he seems to close himself from reality, immediately terrified of everything. Sometimes I won't even say anything, and he'll flinch. This leads me to believe he may be hearing things...voices from his past and may have occasional hallucinations. As a result, he no longer trusts his auditory and visual sense, as stated earlier, which is why his kinesthetic sense is so important."

"I'm sorry, kines..." Jonathan interrupted, confused by her vocabulary.

"Kinesthetic," Cassie immediately repeated. "The sense of touch," she explained, trying her hardest not to sound degrading. "Until he becomes comfortable with his other senses, I would recommend having him touch everything: the walls, his bed, the barn. This was it will hopefully engrave in his mind that this is reality. I would also highly recommend you two to come up with your own sign for him to recognize. As you have probably realized, when I rubbed my thumb on his cheek he immediately calmed down. This is my sign for him, when I do it he knows I am there, whereas if he just sees or hears me, part of his mind questions whether or not I'm real. Whether it is just a pat on the head or a rub on the shoulder, within a couple of days he should be able to recognize it as your personal sign, and he will become more comfortable around you."

Glancing at the clock, Cassie immediately stood up from the table. "I'm sorry I have to go. If they notice I'm not at the facility they may start to question the relation between Clark's and mine disappearance." Seeing the worried looks from Jonathan and Martha, Cassie ensured, "Don't worry, the only reason why I'm going back is so then I can warn you if they plan to retrieve him. I'll call you by the end of the week."

"Of course..." Martha sighed, feeling as though a weight had been lifted off her chest.

Heading toward the living room, Cassie stated, "I'll just say goodbye to Clark first, and then I'll be on my way."

**To Be Continued...**

**AN:** Thank you for all the comments. I hope this chapter lived up to everyone's expectations.


	9. Chapters 12 and 13

**Chapter 12:**

Jonathan knelt in front of his sleeping son, for the first time truly seeing the repercussions of what happened over the last year. Even in his sleep, the poor boy was clutching the blanket. His hear was messily sprawled over his forehead. His trembling breaths filled the room and his eyes constantly twitched beneath their lids. Jonathan focused on the long scar that marred his left cheek. Almost transfixed by it, his hand slowly approached the scar, cautious of disturbing his son. His fingertips carefully moved their way down the thin scar, coming to a halt as it ended at the boy's jaw.

Awoken by the touch, Clark snapped his eyes open and instinctively grabbed Jonathan's wrist. His eyes instantly widening with realization and horror, Clark quickly retracted his hand, guilt and fear swarming his face. "I-I'm sorry," he muttered as he clumsily retreated towards the corner of the couch.

Still taken aback by Clark's fear, Jonathan whispered, "What?"

Clark flinched as if Jonathan had screamed it. Bringing his head up, he repeated a bit louder, "I'm sorry, sir," his voice echoing with a slight robotic twinge.

The Dr. Harris's advice instantly repeated itself in Jonathan's head. Leaping in to action, he placed a warm hand on his son's shoulder. Clark's breath increased as his hollow green eyes blinked back panic. As calmly as possible, Jonathan instructed, "Call me Dad, okay?"

Uneasily eyeing the man's hand, Clark nervously swallowed. "Yes, dad," he replied in the same robotic tone, as if his mind just replaced the word 'sir' with 'dad'.

Suddenly the front door opened, revealing Martha, who was returning from saying goodbye to Dr. Harris. Jonathan slowly stood up, silently beckoning his wife to come over.

Quietly sitting on the couch, Clark brought his knees up to his chest, his words still ringing in his ears. Dad...the word seemed so familiar. Trapped in his abused mind, suddenly there was a punch across his face. ''Dad!' What the hell do you think you are!' Another blow slammed into his right temple. He tried to move his arm to block the oncoming blows, but something restrained him. Glancing down at his wrists he realized he was tied to a wooden chair. Terrified and confused, he glanced around the dark room, tears welling up in his eyes.

Once again, the unknown voice echoed throughout the cold room. 'Aww...are you going to start crying again?' it teased. 'Crying is such a human trait...not to be mocked by a filthy alien like you!' Clark shrank into the hard chair, praying for any type of escape. The voice was now barely above a whisper, it's hot breath against Clark's neck. 'Now say it with me...'I have no family.''

Clark feebly shook his head. Out of nowhere, a cold hand grabbed the back of his neck. 'If you know what's good for you, you'll say it,' the voice threatened. Clark's eyes instantly widened at the sight of a green needle floating in mid air in front of him. "I...I have no family..." he whispered out of pure fear. 'Again...' the voice ordered, its hand still clutching the back of Clark's neck. "I have no family," Clark repeated, a bit louder.

Chilled to the bone, Jonathan and Martha Kent stood paralyzed, watching their only child have what could only be described as a mental breakdown. He was huddled in the far corner of the couch, his legs brought up to his chest and his head bent down behind his knees. His slurred mutters echoed throughout the silent room. And even under the blanket, his tremors were evident.

Jumping out of her trance, Martha knelt in front of her son, so followed by Jonathan. She carefully placed a hand on his leg, not wanting to frighten him too much. "Clark..." she said as calmly as possible, even though her voice was quivering with concern. "Please, Clark, look up."

Upon her command, Clark lifted his head, his eyes blinking back confusion and tears. Martha quickly sat on the couch, next to her child, as Jonathan took her place on the floor in front of him. Noticing her son's wandering eyes, she softly instructed "Look over here." As soon as she said it, Clark was staring directly at her, his head bent forward slightly. Tears now feely falling down her face, Martha steadily reached out towards her son.

Clark's breath increased slightly as she brushed his damp bangs to the side. He slowly closed his eyes, not wanting to show the woman the fear brewing inside of him. "Don't worry, Mom's here now. Nothing can hurt you anymore," the woman stated, barely above a whisper.

Opening his eyes, he lifted his head ever so slightly, positive it was some type of test. "No mom," he whispered, nervously swallowing afterwards.

Taken aback, Martha breathed, "What?" She eyed Jonathan, making sure she had heard him correctly.

Subtly flinching from her response, Clark repeated a bit louder, "No mom. I know, ma'am." His eyes constantly shifting between the man and the woman, he continued, "I have no mom...no family. I know." Sure he had passed the couple's test he faintly smiled. "I'm good. I remember." His smile quickly growing, his lifeless eyes disturbingly glazed over with hope; hope that for once they would be proud of him.

The remains of Martha's already broken heart shattered a bit more as she placed a shaky hand over her mouth. Unable to hold herself back any longer, she threw her arms around her lost child. She just needed to feel her child in her arms, to be able to protect him from his own thoughts, if only for a second. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry," she muttered between her sobs. Feeling Clark's tremors steadily increase, Martha slowly backed away, placing her hands on either side of his cheek.

Looking anxiously at the woman, Clark stuttered, "I'm g-good, right?"

Pushing a strand of hair out of his eyes, Martha answered, "Oh, honey. You've always been 'good'."

**To Be Continued...**

oOo

**Chapter 13: **

Holding his hand under the faucet, Jonathan carefully checked the water's temperature, trying to think about anything besides Clark. His son was so lost, not trusting anything or anyone. Jonathan silently swore at the 'scientists' who degraded their son into believing he was nothing more than an 'it'. But part of him couldn't help but to think what happened to Clark was more his fault than there's. He couldn't find his own son. It took a complete stranger to risk her life to bring Clark back home. Looking into Clark's lifeless eyes, he saw his own failure as a father.

Jonathan glanced back at Clark, who was standing a couple feet away from him, the dirty sheet wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Swallowing his doubt, the father stood up, his eyes glancing over his broken son, his heart still believing it wasn't real.

As if reading the man's mind, Clark silently dropped the blanket, revealing his bare chest and ragged pants. Hearing the man gasp, Clark hung his head a bit more, hiding his face behind his tangled bangs, and wrapped his thin arms around himself. As the seconds passed like hours, Clark peered upwards, secretly wondering what the man was thinking.

" Clark..." Jonathan breathed, thanking God Martha was cooking breakfast. She could continue living in slight ignorance, not having to see just how degraded their son had become. The father couldn't believe how many scars marred the boy's body or how thin he had become. Slowly rubbing his face with his rough hands, Jonathan snapped out of his thoughts, sure the image would haunt him for months to come.

oOo

Less than an hour later, Clark silently stood in the center of a small room, wearing a soft flannel shirt and a pair of old, light blue jeans. He had no way of knowing that less than a year ago the room was his, just as the clothes were. It had been eleven months when his life was torn away from him, only to be replaced with a cold hallow shell of what he once was. Looking blankly around the dim room, Clark nervously rubbed the inside of his shirt with his thumb, wondering what was expected of him. The man, who was wearing a shirt much like his own, slowly approached him.

" Clark," Jonathan whispered, seeing the confused look on his son's face.

"Not my name, dad," the boy answered, wondering why the man felt the desire to test him. He knew. He learned a long time ago. He had no name. He wasn't human, and only humans deserved names.

"Yes, it is your name," the man persisted, slowly reaching his hand towards him.

Clark stared at the floor as he subtly moved his shoulder away from the approaching hand. He nervously bit his bottom lip, conflicting thoughts swarming his mind. "N-no, I know," he muttered, slowly shaking his head.

Jonathan sat down on the bed as he rubbed his hands over his face. "Come here, Clark," he stated, patting the spot next to him.

Assuming the man was speaking to him, Clark awkwardly sat down, still rubbing the soft flannel against his arm.

Turning toward the boy, Jonathan cautiously placed his hand on his son's shoulder, trying to ignore the tremors underneath it. "Look at me, son." Clark's breath hitched with fear as he turned his head towards the man. " Clark, eleven months ago you were taken away from us...your family. Wherever you were taken, the people there did horrible things to you. Things that no person deserves..." The father paused for a moment, noticing Clark's mouth was opened slightly as if wanting to say something. "What is it, Clark?" The boy quickly glanced at the man before looking away, instantly closing his mouth. Jonathan rubbed Clark's arm, whispering, "It's okay, son, you can tell me."

Clark nervously played with the sleeves of his shirt, silent even though there was a never ending battle in his mind. Peering through his damp strands of hair, he answered barely above a whisper, "I-I'm not a person..."

Jonathan's strained temper finally snapped. Grabbing Clark by the shoulders, he turned directly in front of the boy, ordering, "No such words will come out of my son's mouth! You are a person. I don't care what type of shit those assholes fed you at that place." His tone quickly softened, emotions now moving him to blink back tears as he softly rubbed Clark's arm. "You're my son...and I love you," he breathed, utterly defeated.

Clark tried to calm his shallow breaths as he whispered, "I-I'm s...sorry, sir." He quickly shook his head. "D-dad. I know. I'm sorry, d-dad." Looking down at the broken man, he did the one thing he was trained to do when given a new piece of information. Closing his eyes, he repeated, "I'm a person. I'm a person...a person..."

"Oh god, Clark," Jonathan muttered, as he wrapped his arms around his son. Remembering Dr. Harris's advice about his visual and auditory senses, Jonathan tried to help his son the one way he knew how. He backed away from the frightened boy, leaving several inches in between them. "Is it okay if I grab your hand?" Jonathan asked, trying to keep Clark as calm as possible. Seeing the boy modestly nod, the father instantly took a hold of his son's hand, noticing he didn't flinch. Slightly smiling at the small triumph, Jonathan raised Clark's hand and placed it over his rough cheek. The father slowly moved the hand down his own face, over the morning stubble, and across his jaw. Noticing Clark never moved his eyes away from the floor, he whispered, "Can you feel this?"

"Yes, dad," Clark answered, with a bit more emotion than usual.

His blue eyes glimmered with hope as he moved Clark's hand from his own face to his son's. Running Clark's fingers over the tense jaw and high cheekbones, Jonathan asked, "And you feel that?"

"Yes, dad," the boy whispered.

"What do you notice?" the father persisted.

Looking up with trust and wonder, Clark breathed, "It's the same..."

Keeping the one hand on Clark's cheek, Jonathan grabbed the other hand and placed it on his own cheek. "We are equals. You are no different than me. And I want you to always remember that."

**To Be Continued... **

**AN:** So, I kinda wanted a bit of a happy chapter, or at least not one that made everyone cry... I think I succeeded... at least at the end... maybe... okay okay, what can I say I'm an angst writer. You were warned...can't sue. (sticks out tongue) Btw, its 2:00 in the morning and I'm slap happy...if you can't tell.


	10. Chapters 14 and 15

**Chapter 14:**

The last hour was like a roller coaster for Martha. What should be the happiest day in her life had taken a drastic turn into a day she wished would end. Yet, no matter how broken her son had become her inner joy would never be quelled, but a selfish part of her knew if she never woke up she could continue to believe that maybe Clark had left on his own. And no matter how painful that was to believe, nothing could be worse than this. Her son was home now, everything should go back to normal, yet the battle had just begun. He didn't even trust her. Worst than that, he had yet to show any sign of recognition that she even existed.

A loud creak at the top of the stairs snapped her out of her thoughts. There they were: father and son, just like old times. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of Clark wearing a red flannel shirt. There was something about it that made the boy seem more Clark-like, instead of just a boy in a cruel, sick joke. Her faith slightly restored, she called out, "The eggs just finished cooking. I was running around the kitchen for the longest time trying to think of what to make. I just thought eggs was simple and easy enough." Realizing she was rambling, she turned to attention towards setting the table.

"Looks delicious honey," Jonathan answered as he helped Clark down the stairs. With a hand on the boy's shoulder, he guided Clark toward the table. Letting go of Clark, Jonathan pulled out the closest chair.

Clark suspiciously eyed the hard, wooden char for a moment. He'd seen that chair before. He knew. It was where he was taught tings. It was where he went when he said something wrong. He nervously glanced back at the man, trying to recall what he had said earlier. Maybe if he redeemed himself he wouldn't have to sit in it.

Noticing Clark's hesitation, Jonathan calmly urged, "Go ahead, sit down, Clark."

Clark anxiously bit his bottom lip. He knew he was supposed to follow orders the moment they were spoken, but he would do anything to get out of his 'retraining' sessions. Clutching the dirty sheet he dragged out of the room, he stuttered, "I-I…" as he continued to glance between the man and the chair.

"It's not going to hurt you, sweetheart," the woman stated, as she touched the arm of his chair from where she was sitting.

Noticing Clark's shivers steadily increasing, Jonathan gently grabbed his shoulders. "Clark, remember what we talked about upstairs?" he asked, hoping the memory would help his son trust them.

Now chewing on his bottom lip, Clark thought back to the dim room. What did he say wrong? The memory was quickly becoming a blur mixed with dozens of flashbacks.

"Clark?" the man questioned, waiting for his answer.

The word triggering his mind, he opened his eyes and stated, "My name's Clark. I know. I said it wasn't, but I was wrong. I know. It's Clark-"

Confused by his son's words, Jonathan quickly interrupted him, "Shhh. No, I mean, that we're equals." He picked up Clark's trembling hand and placed it on his face as a reminder.

Clark slowly shook his head at his own stupidity. "Yes, of course. I know, dad. I'm a person," he stated, his voice becoming bolder with every word.

"And people sit with their families at breakfast," the father patiently explained, urging his son towards the seat.

"No! Please don't!" Clark screamed for the first time since his return. His usually lifeless eyes became vibrant with fear but with a strange glimmer of determination.

Jonathan quickly backed away as Martha rushed to replace him. "Clark, honey, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice ringing with a calming sing-song tone, even though her eyes were wide with worry.

His arms outstretched, the sheet quickly fell to the ground. Clark began to blink back tears as he begged. "I know. I know. I'm a person. Please, just don't."

"Don't what?" the woman asked as she slowly moved towards him.

Looking fearfully at the chair, Clark continued to move away from the approaching woman but closer to the dreaded chair. "Don't re-teach me. I know. I know!" he cried in desperation.

A gasp quickly escaped Martha's mouth as she placed her hand over her heart, recalling the 'brainwashing' Dr. Harris mentioned in that very chair.

"Martha, get him out of here!" Jonathan ordered from behind, almost as if he was reading her mind.

Leaping into action, Martha grabbed her son's arm and rushed him into the family room. "Jonathan! Get some sheets out of the laundry room and cover the chairs!" she called as she sat Clark down on the couch. She miserably looked at her son, who had a blank look on his face and was rubbing his arms as if he was cold. She instantly realized in her haste she left his sheet in the kitchen. Before her mind even knew what she was doing, she had returned with the filthy blanket in her hand.

Martha wrapped the sheet around him, just as she used to when he was a child. "Feel better, honey?" she asked in the same sing-song voice.

"Yes, ma'am," Clark nodded, his eyes never leaving the floor.

"Please, Clark, call me 'Mom'," Martha insisted as she brushed a couple bangs out of his face.

"Yes, mo-," he started robotically, but his mind froze min-word. 'No family!' the ominous voice hollered. 'You're my son, and I love you," the man wearing plaid retracted. 'You have no family!' the voice screamed louder. 'You do have a family, Clark!' the man, dad, yelled back.

As each word was scorched into his brain, images from the past attacked his mind. The nice man...in the dim room. The voice with the green needle. A cell...his cell. Alone in the corner. A nice lady...Cassie. She left. She wasn't there. A table with metal restraints. She never existed. Pain, such pain. Strapped to the table, people surrounding him. Glowing green knives. He didn't know what was happening. First time...many times will follow. Day after day. Miss the house, the farm, the people...Mom and Dad. Knives coming closer. Can't move. "No! Don't!" They can hear him but don't listen. The first knife cuts. "Mom!"

Gasping for air, Clark snapped his eyes open, finding himself in a strange room with a woman in front of him. "Where am I?" he breathed, placing a shaky hand on his head.

Still stunned by Clark's breakdown, Martha whispered, "You're home, honey. Remember?"

Panicking, Clark looked around him, muttering "No...no...no..." For a brief moment he locked eyes with Martha, lisping, "Mom," but he quickly shook his head, his fingers entangled in his long hair. "It doesn't exist...you don't exist."

Acting without thought, Martha reached towards her son. But, a second before her fingertips touched him, he disappeared from her sight, the front door instantaneously slamming against the frame.

**To Be Continued...**

oOo

**Chapter 15:**

It was simple to tell by swarm of scurrying scientists something was drastically wrong at the scientific research facility that particular morning. Papers were flying everywhere as well as high-pitched voices. Trying to stay unnoticed, Dr. Harris kept a hand on the cement wall, attempting to stay out of everyone's way. As the panicking scientists rushed by she tried her hardest to pick up on bits and pieces of their incoherent mutterings, wondering how much they knew. She assumed they still had no idea where Clark was located at, since everyone's face was tense though fear lit their eyes.

Unaware of her own, personal surroundings, an unknown hand quickly grabbed Cassie from behind and pulled her into an adjacent room. She heard the door click shut, her heart-rate dramatically increasing as she blinked against the darkness. The room was instantly flooded with light with a flip of the switch by the invisible hand. Bringing her hand up to her eyes, Dr. Harris stated in shock at the figure standing in front of her, "Dr. Baum? What on earth are you doing!"

Already pacing around the room, he shouted frantically, "What am I doing!" As if the volume of his own voice frightened him, he nervously glanced behind him, immediately quieting himself. "I'm here to help you," he whispered as he approached her menacingly.

Placing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she questioned, "Help me with what?"

His pale blue eyes flaring once more from his hidden temper, Dr. Baum whispered through his clenched teeth, "They know it's gone. And I know you took it."

Breaking eye-contact with the furious colleague, Dr. Harris backed away towards random, dusty television against the wall. "That's preposterous!" she exclaimed, glaring back at him.

Taking a deep breath, Dr. Baum grabbed a unmarked tape off a table. "Let's just stop this façade," he stated as he placed the tape in the VCR beneath the TV. Pressing play, a sketchy black and white hallway appeared on the screen, obviously a security recording of one of the many corridors in the facility. "Right before the power was cut off, one of our hidden cameras caught this..." His voice trailed off as he fast-forward a bit before pausing on a dark clothed figure scurrying down the hallway. "Even though I cannot prove directly that this is you, she seems to have a close resemblance to your stature, and you were the only one who had access to the building last night."

Crossing her arms accusingly, Dr. Harris wittily replied, "If you're so sure it's me, then why doesn't everyone else know yet."

Finding his colleague's confidence slightly amusing, Dr. Baum stroked his graying goatee slightly before answering, "I replaced the security tape from last night with one taken a month ago...before you were even introduced to the facility."

"And why would you do that? I'm sure they would be curious to your assumptions," she asked as she brought her thin-rimmed glasses down a bit, revealing her bitter hazel eyes.

Sighing once again, Dr. Baum explained, "To put it simply, your not the only one in trouble here. If they find out you stole it, then they will look into your purposes at this facility and who introduced you to this project, which directly ties you to me. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not someone who will stand idly by as you destroy my career."

"But I didn't take it," Dr. Harris bluntly stated, enunciating every word.

Tiredly rubbing his pale blue eyes, Dr. Baum subtly licked his lips, obviously quelling his inner frustration. Looking back at the psychologist, he answered, "All I know is what I showed you. But let me warn you, if the subject doesn't return by tomorrow morning, I will show anyone I can this tape, and this facility does not take kindly to traitors."

"Is that a threat?" she mocked, barely above a whisper.

Walking towards the door, Dr. Baum answered, "Only if you took it." Cassie quietly watched as the scientist placed his hand on the silver doorknob. He seemed obviously perturbed by something, as if he had something else to say. Turning the doorknob the slightest bit, he glanced back at her, his jaw tense with anger. The passion flaring once more behind his blue eyes he charged towards her. "Tell me where it is!" he screamed, stopping only inches away from her face.

"I don't-" she started, but was cut off with surprise when the crazed doctor grabbed her lab coat by the collar.

"Stop lying! This is my career we're talking about here! You can't just come in and trample on everything I've worked so hard for! Don't you even realize that these people will kill us once they realize what you've done! How dare you just feed me to the wolves like this!" he screamed, his pale face growing red with anger. As if shocked by his own words, he stood agape for a second, his eyes wide with surprise. Backing away from the stunned woman, he nervously glanced around the room, obviously frightened by his prediction. Hanging his head shamefully, he looked up at his colleague, his eyes blinking back tears. "Please, just...tell me what's going on. You already dragged me into this. I just want to know," he begged, his voice now meek.

Slowly taking off her glasses, Cassie bit her bottom lip, her mind quarreling between what was fair and what was right for Clark. Looking back into Dr. Baum's fear-ridden eyes, she sighed, defeated. "Alright, don't worry, I'll tell you."

Two hours later, the two doctors were sitting across from each other in Dr. Harris's small apartment. "Incredible," Dr. Baum breathed, looking once again at the picture of Clark Dr. Harris stole a little over an hour ago from the secret file hidden in the office.

Glancing across the table at the photo, Dr. Harris sighed, "I know. Before those 'scientists' got their hands on him, he was just and average kid, with hopes and dreams."

"I just...I always thought..." the doctor breathed speechless from his own ignorance.

"That's okay, don't beat yourself up over it," Cassie comforted as she stood up and refilled his glass of water.

Turning his chair towards her, Dr. Baum curiously asked, "And there was no record from where he previously came from?"

"Nope," she lied simply as she handed him his drink, thinking back to the previously shredded piece of paper with Clark's information. To be honest, she wasn't proud of still keeping the concerned doctor out of the loop, but she thought it was the best for Clark's safety.

He quickly gulped his drink, as if he hadn't drank in days. Rubbing his mouth with his sleeve, he asked, "Then where is he?"

Sitting back down in her seat, Cassie placed the picture into the unmarked manila folder, answering, "Don't worry, I've got it taken care of."

**To Be Continued...**

**AN: **I know everything may seem thrown together with Clark's escape and Dr. Harris with Dr. Baum. But I just wanted you guys to know that don't worry, I'm a firm believer a story isn't complete without a twist at the end. So please be patient.


	11. Chapters 16 and 17

**Chapter 16:**

Surrounded by a forest of trees, Clark stood alone, leaning against a strong trunk, lost amidst his own mind. The sun was beginning to set and clouds were slowly rolling in through the dusk sky, but none of it mattered to the disturbed boy. Time was obsolete. It was just an object, only to be used for the scientists' advantage. Yet now they were gone. The one thing his life revolved around suddenly dissolved, only to be replaced by new surroundings with strange people. People who didn't understand he was not one of them. Were they not told? He was meant for scientific purposes...for the progression of human knowledge. Nothing else. Everything else was irrelevant.

Yet, there was something nice about the strange people. Deep down, he liked being thought of as a human, even though he knew it was wrong. They thought he was good, even when he was blatantly opposing them. In a world were all he strived for was someone's approval he never thought someone would give it to him so easily. It was like him just being there was enough for them, and the thought of that was overwhelming. They didn't expect anything from him, therefore he never knew what to do. He wanted to please them, yet they were already satisfied. So what was his goal?

Sliding to the ground, Clark looked blankly at the slowly approaching rain clouds. Sighing, he fingered the soft dirt, letting the dry summer leaves crumple in his hand. His thoughts wandered back to the kind lady he abandoned. He felt guilty. Not fearful of what punishment he would receive, but regretful for leaving her, knowingly causing her pain. She seemed so concerned...for him. Just the thought of her made Clark want to rush back to the little house he saw in his dreams. Yet, in a split second, none of it was real. And he knew he couldn't return to something that never existed.

Suddenly tired, Clark leaned his head against the trunk of the tree, looking up at the graying sky. He felt like nothing. Just a being forever tapped in a dimension of time that never existed. Maybe that was the purpose. Maybe that was the scientists' goal...to make him realize that he, himself, didn't exist. It would explain why his memories were fake, only used for the scientists' taunts. But now, the scientists, the ominous beings, were gone. His past was just a scene created in his own mind, and he, as a thing, didn't have a future. For a creature that only lived in the present, what was he supposed to do now?

As if the angels from heaven were watching from above, the gray cloud finally burst with anguish, a steady stream of rain falling to the earth. Confused by the drops of water falling from the sky, Clark reached his hand out, heaven's tears gently dripping through his fingers. Glancing back up at the cloud, he blinked back his own tears, realizing he had never felt something so beautiful. He wished time would stop, forever suspended in this moment. A moment where everything made sense. A moment just for him. Closing his eyes, he savored his moment, not letting it slip away before he returned to his dimension of nothingness.

"Clark!" a frantic voice called from afar.

Clark ignored the call as it drifted in one ear and out the other. Lost in his thoughts, he sighed as the rain continued to cascade down his face. It reminded him of a dream he once had. He was younger. Every time it rained, against his mother's wishes, he would run out to the yard and jump in the puddles, only to be dragged inside by the arm and rushed to the bathroom. Suddenly there was a warm hand on his shoulder. Calmed by his thoughts he slowly looked into the soft blue eyes before him. "Mom," he breathed without thought.

Her lost son finally found, Martha blinked back tears of relief. "Clark," she whispered as she brushed a strand of his damp bangs out of his eyes.

Clark silently looked around his surroundings. He was still in the forest, yet she was there. But she only existed when he was dreaming, and surely he wasn't asleep. "What's happening?" he wondered aloud as his eyes curiously darted across the scenery.

Her face crumpling, Martha thought back to his words right before he disappeared. 'You don't exist...' The three words had been on her mind all day as she searched frantically for her missing son. The forgotten mother gently placed her trembling hands Clark's cheeks. Tears now freely flowing down her face, she stated, "I'm real. I've always e-existed..." Swallowing, she closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to contain her tears. "And I am so s-sorry that you have ever believed otherwise." Unable to hold back any longer, she wrapped her arms around her son, her hot tears running though his already soaked shirt...and to her surprise he hugged back.

**To Be Continued...**

oOo

**Chapter 17: **

Ever silent on the nightstand, the digital clock gleamed 4:37 in bright red numbers as a disturbed father constantly tossed and turned in his sleep. His mind lost in his personal nightmare, Jonathan repeatedly fidgeted beneath the twisted sheets.

He was running down a dark hallway. Even though he couldn't see his hand in front of him, he knew exactly where he was going. He understood fate was against him, as it always was, but this time would be different. He would make it in time. He had to...if not for himself than for his son, his wife, everything he loved. Never missing a beat, Jonathan turned one last time. His breaths echoing down the labyrinth behind him, he threw the door open, already knowing what was on the other side. As if sensing the man's presence, a bright light blazed throughout the room. Shielding his eyes against the harsh light, Jonathan cautiously stepped forward towards the metallic table in the center of the room. The father held his breath as he shakily leaned over the table, already sensing his fate.

No matter how hard Jonathan tried, nothing could prepare him for what was in front of him. Lying on the table was the remains of his son. His skin was torn open, exposing a vast empty space where his once precious organs used to lie. Jonathan could only imagine what tortuous deeds the scientists did to his son, as he looked over the gray corpse. But what disturbed the man most of all was not gaping whole in his son's torso, or the exposed bone in his arms and legs...it was the lifeless, hollow eyes that looked back at his father, unaware that his savior had come a second too late.

Tears now freely falling down his face, Jonathan picked up Clark's cold, unmoving hand, and placed the palm against his own, just as he used to when he was a child. Unable to contain himself any longer, Jonathan dropped his son's hand and fell to his knees, his sobs rattling the table beneath his head.

Gasping for air, Jonathan awoke with a start, bolting straight up in his bed. Steadying himself, he placed his hand to the right of him, only to feel that the spot where Martha usually slept was empty. He quickly glanced to the right of him, the undisturbed pillow confirming his assumption. The dream still fresh in his mind, he quickly ran down the short hallway and threw open the door to his son's bedroom. The moonlight from the window softly lit the small room, showing a mother and son reunited.

Martha was sound asleep in a chair next to Clark's bed, her hand stubbornly wrapped around the boy's. His eyes never leaving his son's peaceful face, Jonathan strolled over to the other side of the bed and sat next to him. Noticing Clark's steady breaths were slowly increasing, Jonathan whispered in a soothing tone, "You're awake, aren't you?"

Clark slowly opened his eyes and shamefully hung his head. "Yes, dad," he breathed. Jonathan stayed quiet for a moment, just glad to see his son alive and well. Perturbed by the silence, Clark looked up at the man, wondering what was running through the man's mind.

Seeing the boy's empty green eyes reminded Jonathan how unwell his son truly was. Still shaken by the image in his dream, Jonathan slightly patted Clark on the shoulder, stating, "Well, c'mon. I'll show you around the farm before the workers arrive." He slowly rose to his feet and stretched, mentally preparing himself for the task he was about to face. Jonathan never took a course in psychology or even knew exactly what was expected of him, but in his mind he figured the best way to make Clark feel comfortable was to introduce some type of routine. The father casually walked over to the closet and tossed his son a plain, white shirt and a pair of jeans. Never looking back at the confused look on the boy's face, Jonathan instructed, "I'll meet you downstairs," before walking out the door.

Taking one last look at the now closed door, Clark shakily stood up and made his bed. He nervously glanced at his sleeping mother, praying he wouldn't disturb her. Changing as quickly as possible, he cautiously walked down the stairs, toward the already lighted kitchen. He abruptly stopped before he reached within ten feet of the wandering man. Clark silently watched as the man paced around the kitchen, randomly grabbing several meats from the refrigerator and some bread. Obviously unfazed by the boy, the man kept his back towards him as he made what seemed to be a sandwich on the counter. Finally satisfied with his product, the farmer spun around and handed Clark half of the sandwich. "Don't worry, I'm sure your mom will make something more sufficient once she wakes up," he stated as he headed towards the front door.

"T-thank you, dad," Clark whispered, his eyes never leaving the sandwich placed in his hands.

Pausing for a moment in the doorway, the man answered, "Don't mention it. Now, c'mon, we have a lot of work to do."

Seeing the man already making his way down the porch steps, Clark immediately jogged towards him, feeling a strange sense of acceptance. Once he became within a foot of the farmer, Clark slowed down a bit, not wanting to intrude on the man's personal space. Clark's eyes hungrily traveled down toward the untouched sandwich in his hand. As the scent hit his nose, he quickly stuffed a huge bite in his mouth. Whatever the sandwich contained, it was like heaven compared to what he usually ate. Now all thoughts on the delicious sandwich, he absently followed the man, devouring it before someone else got their hands on it.

Reaching the entrance of the barn, Jonathan quickly turned around, still chewing on part of his own half. His jaw slightly slacked at the sight of his son, who was wiping his hands on his pants and swallowing the last part of his breakfast. "Y-you just ate that whole thing?" Jonathan asked, blinking back disbelief.

"Y-yes, dad," Clark answered, as he nervously rubbed his left arm.

A smile growing on his face, Jonathan laughed, "Some things never change."

oOo

As the glowing sun slowly rose over the Kansas plains, its soft, gold rays gently peeked through the small window within Clark's bedroom. Squinting her eyes against the sun, Martha slowly sat up in the hard wooden chair where she had spent the night. Realizing where she was, her mind jolted awake as recollections of the previous day quickly danced through her thoughts. She quickly snapped her eyes open, the desire to see her son so great she could wait another second. But to her horror she found the bed where he was once sleeping in, completely empty with the sheet undisturbed as if he was never there.

Her heart beating faster by the second, she ran out of the room, screaming her son's name, praying for some type of answer. Looking around the deserted house, her subconscious second guessed what had happened the day before. "It couldn't be a dream..." she whispered to herself, tears brimming her soft blue eyes. Unable to take the solitude, she ran out the front door. "Jonathan!" she screamed frantically as she sprinted towards the barn.

Twirling around the large cathedral-like room of the barn, she hollered again, "Jonathan!"

Hearing the frantic tone in his wife's voice, Jonathan appeared seemingly out of nowhere. "Martha, what's wrong?" he asked as he placed a steady hand on her arm.

Unable to wait another second, she yelled, " Clark! Where's Clark!"

Mentally slapping himself for not informing her before he left, Jonathan calmly answered, "Don't worry he's right here." As soon as the words left his mouth, he turned and gestured towards the stables, only to find the space empty. Rubbing a hand through his hair, he stuttered, "I-I don't understand, he was right here milking the cow..." He slowly sauntered towards the abandoned cow, finding the pale half-full and his son no where in sight. He turned towards his wife, surprised to find her slowly heading in the opposite direction. "Martha?"

Jonathan's voice never reached the mother's ears, her thoughts totally fixated on the shaking person in the corner. " Clark?" she whispered, as she stopped a couple inches away from her son.

Leaning against the wall, the boy stood, terrified of whatever was in front of him. His long hair dangled in front of his face as he hung his head shamefully. "L-Loud voices..." he breathed as his arms constantly rubbed each other as if he was cold. "P-Please stop...I'm sorry," he continued, he voice barely loud enough to hear the last words.

Blinking back tears, Martha slowly reached out towards her son, only to have him slightly move away, but she persisted until she slowly touched his face, gently brushing the long strands of hair out of his face. "I'm sorry, that was me, honey," she calmly explained. After waiting a couple seconds for some type of response, she turned towards Jonathan. "Let's get him inside."

**To Be Continued...**


	12. Chapters 18 and 19

**Chapter 18:**

Her internal clock set to the second, Cassie rolled to her side and glanced at the under-worked alarm clock, which proudly stated 6:29 in bright numbers. Seconds before it declared the start of a new day, she reached over and switched off the alarm. Her mind already turning, she stretched for a mere second, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she wondered what the day had in store. Her body set on autopilot, she numbly went through her morning routine of showing and changing, her thoughts clearly focused on what transpired the day before.

Thinking back to the precise words exchanged between her and Dr. Baum, who she now called Robert, something didn't settle quite right in her gut. Robert now knew she was behind the disappearance of Clark...and that was it. Beside from the old picture she found of the boy, he had no other information. The single thought of that seemed to ease her a bit since the poor boy was still safe. If Robert decided to share his findings with his colleagues and she was the one in danger, not Clark.

Biting her bottom lip as she brushed her hair, she still felt uneasy about the whole ordeal. It all seemed too simple. The escape, the covering of her tracks, even Dr. Baum willingly helped her by replacing the security tape. It was like God was on her side, but what did God want in return? If there was any inkling of fate in the universe something was bound to go drastically wrong.

Straightening out the bottom of her light blue turtleneck, she strode into her family room, silently eyeing the sleeping doctor on the couch in front of her. Beneath the sudden mood swings, Robert seemed like a good man, who only wanted the best for everyone, including himself. But one question kept dancing throughout Cassie's mind: why the support? After telling him the sparse amount of information, he seemed completely satisfied. Granted, Cassie appreciated the lack of curiosity or interference, but it seemed highly odd that a scientist, especially of his caliber, wouldn't have more questions.

Her over-worked mind worn-out, she grabbed a glass of orange juice and sat at the small table. Annoyed with the constant twists and assumptions in the news, she quit reading the paper a long time ago, yet now she longed for a crossword puzzle. She wearily looked around the room, before grabbing her journal resting on the counter under a stack of magazines and books. A little over a year ago she recommended a patient to start writing their thoughts in a journal to help sort them out, but the only way they agreed to do it was if she did it with them. Open to the new idea, Dr. Harris quickly agreed, and the hobby stuck with her. Even though there were a couple weeks where nothing was written at all, she occasionally still enjoyed writing her personal thoughts, only for her eyes to read.

Halfway through the second page Cassie heard a moan from the couch. "Good morning sleepy head," she greeted, as she placed the book in a drawer.

Used to sleeping alone, Dr. Baum jumped up to his feet with a panicked look on his face. "Wha-...huh!"

"Calm down..." she sighed as she rolled her hazel eyes.

Seeing Dr. Harris walk towards him with a smirk on her face, Robert immediately remembered what transpired the day before. Shakily placing a hand over his chest, he said, "I think you gave me a heart attack."

Cassie slightly chuckled as she sat in the red chair across from him. "I'm not the one who crashed on the couch...uninvited."

Dr. Baum's face instantly turned a bright shade of red. "I-I'm sorry," he muttered, not believing he had been so foolish. Sitting back down on the couch, he continued, "I guess everything that happened yesterday kinda wore me out."

"Don't worry about it," she replied, taking a sip of her orange juice afterwards.

Rubbing his pale blue eyes, Robert groggily asked, "So, what time is it anyway?"

"7:23," Cassie simply answered as she checked the gold watch her mother gave her for her eighteenth birthday.

"What!" Dr. Baum exclaimed as he jumped to his feet. "No...i-it's not. It can't be. Don't you have an alarm clock!" he incredulously demanded.

Sighing at her colleague's drama, Cassie plainly said, "Of course I do, but it wasn't my job to read your mind. How am I supposed to know when you have to wake up?"

"Look, I don't have time for this," he boldly stated as he threw his coat on and rushed towards the door.

Quickly becoming nervous, Dr. Harris rose to her feet, exclaiming, "Where are you going!"

"Back to the laboratory!" Dr. Baum shouted as if the answer was obvious.

Her concern instantly increasing, Cassie bolted for the door. "What! Why?" She knew it. She should have listened to her instinct. How could she have been so blind?

Oblivious to Cassie's anxiety, Robert threw open the door. "They're expecting me!" He suddenly felt a strong hand grabbing the back of his coat and throwing him backwards. Hastily turning toward his partner in crime, he yelled, "They won't notice of you're gone, but me! I've been there longer. They're not stupid! They can link the mess back to me."

Catching her breath from her adrenaline rush, Cassie took a moment to think over his words. Accusingly placing her hands on her hips, she answered, "Fine then. I'm coming with you." With that said she turned around and grabbed her coat from the closet.

Blinking back disbelief, Robert stated, "Don't you trust me?"

Momentarily ignoring his question, Cassie walked towards the doorway. Holding the door open for the man, she whispered as he passed, "Not yet."

**To Be Continued...**

oOo

**Chapter 19: **

Pushing the front door open with her free hand, Martha guided the ever-silent boy down the hallway and into the family room. The mother then directed Clark toward the couch and rearranged the pillows around him, moving swiftly and wordlessly, as if she was treating a sick child. All her thoughts on her son, she rushed upstairs, grabbed the now clean sheet, and darted back into the family room. She kneeled in front of the boy, studying his face for a moment, before wrapping the large sheet around him. Her eyes never leaving his face, she slowly stood up and brushed a few strands of hair out of his face. Out of nowhere, a voice from the kitchen startled the distressed mother. "Martha." Turning towards the owner of the voice, she lipped 'what', only to have the man motion her to come towards him. Biting her bottom lip, Martha looked down at her motionless son before jogging towards her husband.

"What?" she whispered, her eyes wide with concern.

Sighing for a second, Jonathan answered, "You can't keep on doing this..." His son was finally back with them, and no matter how hard it was for his wife to understand, the boy needed to be included in everyday life. Jonathan couldn't see him completely healing any other way.

Wrinkling her nose, Martha questioned, "Doing what?" Her son had finally returned, and after living almost a year in a hellhole, all she wanted to do was make him feel safe again.

"You're babying him," Jonathan explained, slightly raising his voice.

Not believing the words that were coming out of her husband's mouth, Martha defended, "I just want to make him comfortable. He's been away for so long, Jonathan. Who knows what they did to him in there!" The mother paused for a moment, trying to contain herself as she blinked back a fresh batch of tears. "He's only sixteen and he's had to face things that no person should ever have to face."

"Seventeen" was the man's only response.

"What?" Martha breathed, the word catching her off guard.

Unable to face his wife, Jonathan slightly hung his head as he stated, "He's seventeen now, Martha. His birthday was a month ago."

Completely forgetting the missed birthday, the mothers face crumpled a bit more, not believing so much of her son's life was stolen from her.

Seeing the distress he had caused his wife, Jonathan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He bent down lightly, trying to look into the woman's tear-filled eyes. Finally achieving eye-contact, he gently whispered, "He's better than you think he is."

Thrown off by her husband's words, Martha breathed, "What?"

"The first time we tried to teach him how to milk a cow, remember how hard it was?" he asked, his eyes never leaving her face. Martha slightly smiled, remembering how frustrated and impatient the young boy would get. Seeing his wife slowly nodding, Jonathan continued, "Today, I didn't have to say a word to him." Martha subtly gasped, immediately getting her attention. "I just said we had to milk the cows and before I knew it he was doing it." His blue-gray eyes filled with hope, Jonathan breathed, "He remembers..."

Trying his best to ignore the words of the people in the other room, Clark's subtly scanned the room he was placed in. There was a small, dirty fireplace in the corner next to a couple antique bookshelves. Slowly moving his eyes, he looked at the coffee table directly in front of him. It was simple but beautiful with subtle engravings on the legs. Suddenly, a fracture in one of the legs caught his eye. The crack seemed to go all the way around the leg, as if it was broken off at one time. Something nagging his memory, he bit his bottom lip and concentrated on that one leg.

Clark was younger, sitting Indian style by the fire place. A couple toys surrounding him, it was simple to entertain himself while his mother was making dinner. First, he made a tower out of several wooden blocks. He stood up and walked around it, proudly studying his masterpiece. A mischievous smile growing on his face, he decided to act like Godzilla and pushed them all over. Giggling for a second he quickly became bored and decided to try to juggle the blocks, like he saw one clown do at the circus. Wrapping his small hands around two of the blocks, he picked them up and threw them in the air simultaneously, only to have them crashing down on his head. He quickly decided that wasn't very fun and turned away from the rebellious blocks.

His eyes catching sight of the bright red yoyo, he swiftly snatched it and jumped up, deciding this would be the day that the ever stubborn yoyo would yield and come back to his hand. So excited, he forgot to put the string around his finger and threw the yoyo down, only to have it quickly roll away from him. Now angry with the toy, he quickly ran after it and stepped on one of the discarded blocks. His balance thrown off, he fell on his side and slid towards the table, his unnaturally strong back snapping one of the legs in two.

Jonathan walked inside after a long day of farm work to the ever familiar noise of something crashing. Glancing toward his wife, who was seconds away from dashing toward her son, he held up his hand and said, "Don't worry I got it this time."

Stuffing his work gloves in his pocket, he strode toward the family room, preparing himself for a newly destroyed room. He abruptly stopped next to the red couch, taking in the sight before him. He couldn't help but to hang his head and rub his eyes at the sight of his five-year-old son lying on his side next to a now slanted table, the hunting magazines sliding off and plopping on the boy's head. Swallowing his laughter, Jonathan walked a couple more feet and kneeled in front of the boy, who was shaking his head, trying to figure out what happened. "Hey there, son, you okay?" he gently asked as he placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.

Startled by the sight of his father, Clark looked up at him with big, green eyes. His bottom lip quivering, he said, "I'm sowwy, Daddy."

Jonathan instantly scooped his son up in his arms, and placed him on his lap. "Don't worry. It's nothing we can't fix."

Wrapping his short arms around the father's neck, the boy said, "B-but I hurt the table...the one Grandpa made."

"Well, then..." Jonathan started as he gently pulled his son away from his face. "We'll, just have to take it to the workshop and fix it tomorrow. Make it good as new," he smiled as he jokingly prodded his son's tiny nose.

A smile quickly exploded on the boy's face at the thought of using his dad's tools. "Okay, Daddy!" he shouted excitedly as he wiped away his tears.

Back in the kitchen, Jonathan and Martha were startled out of their conversation by distant mumbling from the family room. Instantly realizing the source, they dashed to the other room. Simultaneously, they kneeled in front of their teenage son, whose gaze was locked on the coffee table behind them.

Placing her hand on her son's knee, Martha asked barely above a whisper, "What's wrong, honey?"

Still as stone, Clark replied in a meek child-like voice, "I'm sorry, Daddy."

Jonathan's eyes immediately widened at the juvenile term. "For what, son?"

For a long moment silence filled the room. Breaking contact with the small, wooden table, Clark looked directly into Jonathan's eyes. "I hurt the table...the one Grandpa made."

Speechless, the parents turned toward each other. For several seconds they were frozen amidst a silent conversation. Martha glanced back toward the antique coffee table, whispering, "He's remembering..."

**To Be Continued...**

**AN: **I know it's been a while, but thanks for being so patient everyone. I just got back from LA for my birthday, soI've been quite busy.


	13. Chapter 20

**AN: **Sorry about the HORRIBLY short chapter. I originally posted this chapter and chapter 19, not realizing it was already posted in the last chapter. I felt too bad to take the whole thing down, so sorry. Without further ado, here's the shortest chapter ever.

**Chapter 20:**

Making her presence known to the incompetent in front of her, Dr. Harris briskly walked on her high heels only inches behind Dr. Baum. Even though she knew as long Dr. Bum had the videotape her life was in his hands, she wanted to exude an air of power, never letting Robert know how fast her heart was beating.

Spinning around on his heels, Dr. Baum exclaimed, "Would you quit doing that!"

Cassie abruptly stopped mid-step and staggered backwards a bit. "Doing what?" she asked, blinking surprise out of your eyes.

"Walking on my heels," he grumbled through his teeth, the abrupt passion in his eyes quickly fading away.

"Then walk faster," Cassie stated, her voice brewing with confidence. To be honest she never realized she was stepping on her colleagues heels, but it wasn't too far fetched, considering Dr. Baum's saunter compared to her usual brisk stride.

With a casual roll of the eyes and a mutter under his breath, Dr. Baum pressed the elevator button with a bit more vindication than usual. Cassie stayed several feet away from the man, patiently waiting for his inner fire to quell. After waiting several seconds, the elevator doors slid open and the awkward silence continued as they descended to the lowest level. Cassie mentally prepared herself for the blast of air conditioning that floated about the laboratory.

As the doors opened, Robert looked over his shoulder and said, "You can trust me," with a rare calm twinge. Cassie didn't respond but merely nodded her head, silently giving him her approval. They walked down the short hallway and paused for a moment outside the frosted glass doors that boldly stated, 'Authorized Personnel Only'. Cassie silently watched Dr. Baum slide his card through the identification pad and pulled the doors open, completely unprepared for what was on the other side.

Bodies were strewn throughout the hallway like some type of gruesome portrait. Their eyes frozen in their last petrified look, the corpses of once world-renown scientists were now left for eternal decay in the ever secretive underground laboratory. The air reeked of blood and death, warning all visitors to leave before it was too late. Blood was splattered against the walls, dying them forever crimson.

"Oh my God," Robert muttered, placing a shaky hand over his mouth. But his words fell on deaf ears. Pale as a ghost, Cassie stood, motionless, staring blankly at what laid before her. Robert glanced towards the young woman, secretly wondering what was going on in her mind. Becoming worried after a couple seconds of pure silence, he placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping to snap her out of her horrified trance.

Cassie leapt backwards at the touch as if he had shocked her. Slamming against the glass doors, she placed her trembling hand on the handle and pushed, never taking her eyes off the massacre in front of her. Once reaching the other side, she leaned against the immaculate white wall and staggered toward the elevator. "Oh my god, oh my god…" she muttered barely above her breath, as she repeatedly pushed the elevator button.

Robert ran up to her side and placed a warm hand on her shoulder, but she didn't seem to notice. As he guided her inside the elevator, he plainly saw she was as pale as a ghost. "C-Cassie you need t-to breathe," he instructed calmly, even though his voice was high and shaking with fear.

Tears welling up in her eyes, Cassie never heard a word that came out of the doctor's mouth. The small, gray walls in the elevator seemed to be closing in on her, and her vision quickly became fuzzy around the edges. "Jack" was the last thing she whispered before she passed out on the floor.

Cassie was back in her childhood home, years before she became a psychologist. She was in her junior year of high school, just happy to be on Christmas break where she didn't have to face the endless routine of teachers and schoolwork for another two weeks. She had just walked though her door after a long night out with her friends at the movies. Her parents were gone for the weekend, visiting distant family in another state before returning for the holidays.

"Jack!" Cassie called, as she tossed off her shoes. "I'm home!" She waited for a couple seconds, knowing any minute now her older brother would come barreling down the stairs and body slam her into the ground. It was his first year away from home, and even though sometimes she liked having the house to herself, it became lonely after a while. Secretly, she was glad he had a whole month back with her, even if she was going to be in school for part of it.

After a couple seconds of silence, Cassie became slightly worried. "Jack!" she called again as walked towards the family room. "Jaaaack! Come out, come out wherever you are," she chanted as she peered into the bathroom. Seeing the light from the basement gleam under the door, the girl rolled her eyes, sure he was listening to his new set of headphones again. Ready to scare the pants off of her brother, Cassie tiptoed down the stairs, readying herself for the best prank of her life. Finally stepping on the floor, she swiveled around, ready to scream and pounce on her brother. Instead she was faced with the most horrific scene her young eyes had ever beheld.

Her brother was lying lifelessly on the ground, blood pouring out of his head. "Jack…?" she whispered, her heart not believing the sight before her. "Oh my God," she breathed, swallowing back vomit as she eyed the gun lying next to him. It was the last thing she saw before she collapsed.

The psychologist drearily opened her tear-filled eyes, the image of her brother forever scorched within her brain. It has been years since that fateful day that eventually led her into her career. But with every child she had saved, there still remained the one she never could.

"Cassie?" Robert whispered, hovering over her face.

At the sound of the distraught voice, Dr. Harris instantly snapped back to reality. As she placed her hand against the wall, she tried to best to stand up, ignoring the hand of help from her colleague. Seeing the elevator doors slide open, Cassie strode into the parking deck. "C'mon, we have to get out of here," she calmly stated, even though her already mended heart just shattered into a million pieces.

**To Be Continued...**


	14. Chapters 21 and 22

**AN: **Sorry about the wait but if it helps any its a REALLY long chapter.

**Chapter 21: **

The past four hours seemed like a never-ending nightmare to Cassie. After the fleeing from the massacre before fate caught up with them, Cassie dropped Robert off at his apartment, deciding they shouldn't contact one another for a while. The unknown killer could be anyone, and they thought it would be best if they attempted to continue life as normally as possible. Robert already had her address from when he sent the original files to her a couple months ago, and, as far as Cassie was concerned, she felt no need to jeopardize her life anymore than she had to by gaining excess information about Dr. Baum.

Immediately afterwards she spent the rest of the morning in a hot bath, unsuccessfully trying to melt away her anxiety. Once she realized she couldn't hide in fear, she quickly got dressed and jumped in her black sedan, one goal in mind. Two hours later, she sped past the infamous 'Welcome to Smallville' sign, proudly stating how it was the home of the largest meteor shower. The sparse scenery providing nothing to keep her mind occupied, images of the laboratory came rushing back to her mind. Her hands nervously trembled as she slowly reached the lone farmhouse. Her breath was still for a moment as she pulled into the gravel driveway, forgetting how simply beautiful the landscape was.

Inside the house, Martha was mindlessly humming a cheerful tune while cleaning the furniture in her son's room. She couldn't believe the amount of dust that had accumulated over the past dreadful months. The mother still remembered the long nights she spent beside his vacant bed, praying tonight would be the last night bed would remain cold and empty. She quickly glanced at her son, who was looking over some old photos at his desk. Just the sight of him made her previous shattered heart mend a bit more. Never taking her eyes off Clark, Martha placed the duster on the forgotten nightstand. "Hey," she softly said as she gently placed her hands on the back of the chair.

Completely focused on the photos, Clark flinched at the sound of a random voice. For the first time since he had sat down, he looked up from his desk. A confused look washed over his face as he scanned the small room. "Clark," the soft voice spoke again. He followed the origin of the voice, and nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden sight of his mother three inches away from his face.

Placing her arm hand on his shoulder, she said, "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to scare you."

Clark bit his bottom lip for a moment before looking away from his mother's kind face. As he hung his head slightly, large strands of hair fell down, covering most of his face.

Martha subtly observed Clark, secretly wondering what was going on in his abused mind. Suddenly, the doorbell rang throughout the house, breaking the awkward silence held between mother and son. Noticing her son hadn't moved a muscle, her hand slid away from his shoulder. "I'll be right back, okay?" she asked as she tried to look at his hidden face. Clark merely nodded, as if he didn't deem his words good enough for his mother's ears.

Bleakly sighing at Clark's sudden withdrawal, Martha made her way towards the door, praying to God for the strength to heal her baby. Right before she walked out of the room, she glanced back at her son, who was discreetly rubbing his shoulder where her hand was moments ago. The mother dismally made her way down the stairs, as if the last couple minutes sucked the remaining ounce of energy out of her. She never thought about who could be ringing her doorbell in the middle of the afternoon. Such a minute subject seemed to be trivial in her ever-changing life. Yet, the moment she opened the door, she realized her day was long from over.

"D-Dr. Harris," she slightly stuttered, her voice high with surprise.

"Please, call me Cassie," the young doctor whispered, her mind obviously elsewhere.

"Of course, Cassie," Martha repeated as she shook the formal name out of her head. Stretching out her arm, she held the door open for the guest, curious at what made her stop by. "Please, come on in."

Cassie scuttled past her, glad to be off the road and in somewhat hiding from the mysterious killer. Her heart was beating a mile per minute with every constant recollection of the bodies strewn about like a gruesome horror film.

Noticing the once calm and collected psychologist now appeared to be a nervous wreck, Martha hurriedly asked, "Is everything okay? Did they find out where Clark is?" She couldn't imagine the pain of having her child torn away from her a second time. She didn't care if they had to sell the farm and move, she would do anything in her power to make sure that would never happen.

Spinning around towards the distressed mother, she quickly stated, "No…I mean, I don't know." Cassie placed her hand on her forehead sure she must be trapped in some horrible nightmare. Before she knew it she would wake up in her bed, as all thoughts of rescuing aliens and a mass massacre of scientist would drift away from her mind, lost in the pile of long forgotten dreams. She slowly blinked her eyes, only to open them to the same scene displayed before her. She sorrowfully sighed, knowing it was a distant but unreal hope.

Martha was quickly becoming frantic as every silent second passed. She rushed up to the motionless doctor and placed her hands on the young woman's shoulders. She looked straight into her hazel eyes, needing to know what had caused the doctor's unease. "Please, tell me what happened," she calmly instructed, but the quiver in her voice described the anxiety her words could not.

"When I got back to the laboratory, everyone was dead," Cassie whispered, knowing the image of their unseeing eyes would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.

A short gasp escaped Martha's mouth. "What? How?" she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

Cassie slowly regained her composure as she looked into the mother's eyes. "Someone killed them," she said, her face slightly scrunched as if she just understood it herself. She couldn't explain it, but it was as if saying it out loud made it definite. It caused an eerily calm feeling to rush through her body. Just standing there in front of somebody else gave her the feeling of survival. She lived when she should have died. The worst was over, and now she no longer had to keep up the façade of scientist at the laboratory. Finally, all of her thoughts could center on her patient.

"Oh my god..." Martha whispered. It never occurred to her how shady an organization must be to house an alien for almost a year. The thought that they would go to such extremes terrified the woman. Yet she couldn't help but be slightly relieved that the sadistic scientists got what they deserved for degrading her boy. Her thoughts flying back to the doctor in front of her, Martha's compassion instantly returned. "Are you okay?" she sincerely asked as she placed a hand on the girl's shoulder.

Nodding, Dr. Harris assured, "Yeah, I'm fine." Her thoughts already on her patient, she asked, "Where's Clark?"

"Oh! He's upstairs," Martha replied happily, just the thought of her son back home made her smile. Rushing towards the bottom of the stairs, she exclaimed, "Clark! Someone's here to see you!"

Dr. Harris watched the mother skeptically. To assume Clark would respond to her call was clearly expecting too much. He just returned home yesterday, it was impossible for the mind to heal that much. Physical contact always had to be established before he responded. Cassie curiously glanced towards the staircase, shocked to find Clark nervously standing at the top.

Martha's smile grew at the sight of her son. Realizing he wasn't moving, Martha walked up a couple stairs. "C'mon down Clark, Cassie's here," she encouraged.

Cassie silently watched Clark slowly walk down the stairs, his eyes never leaving the ground. The improvement was remarkable. Without thinking, Cassie glided toward the bottom of the staircase. Clark stopped a couple feet away from her, his eyes still locked on his feet. Cassie inwardly smiled at the now clean blanket wrapped around him. His parents were clearly taking excellent care of him. "Hey there," she softly greeted as she gently placed her and on bottom of his chin. She felt him slightly flinch as she slowly moved his head up. "Remember me?" she asked, smiling afterwards.

Clark furrowed his eyebrows as he looked into her kind, hazel eyes. She slowly cupped his cheek in her warm, soft hand. "Cassie?" he breathed, not believing the word as it left his mouth. Cassie left. She helped him, but then she left. He knew. She didn't exist in his new world with his parents. He was sure of it.

Smiling at his recollection, she stated, "Yeah, Clark, it's me." Before she knew it, large arms were wrapped around her in a warm, sincere hug. Blinking back surprise, she quickly returned the gesture.

"Cassie..." Clark whispered, still not believing his luck.

Silent and hurt, Martha stood to the side, wondering why her son could so easily trust a stranger before he trusted his parents.

**To Be Continued...**

oOo

**Chapter 22:**

Still as stone, Cassie sat comfortably in a rocking chair on the front porch. In front of her was a young boy who had been so traumatized he didn't even know who or what he was. For the first time in Cassie's career she felt she was under qualified for such a patient, yet she was the only one who could help him. For the first several seconds she silently observed him, knowing the situation was overbearing for the both of them. He warily looked up at her, probably wondering what was expected of him. Cassie casually leaned back in the chair and started calmly, "So, do you like it here, Clark?"

"Yes," he whispered, hanging his head as if he had something to be ashamed of.

Cassie sifted in her seat and leaned over, trying to seem more approachable. "What do you like about it?" she asked curiously.

The question got an immediate nervous reaction from Clark. What was he supposed to say? The last thing he wanted was to say something wrong, and then have Cassie hate him. She was so nice. "I-I...um..." Clark stuttered, as he gripped the sheet that was wrapped around him.

Cassie scooted the rocking chair closer to Clark. She reached out and lovingly rubbed his knee with her hand. "It's okay, Clark. Just say what you feel."

Trying to sort out his thoughts, Cassie's words went unheard. He needed an answer and quick. Making people wait for an answer was bad. He was finally good. He didn't want to be bad again. When he was bad it hurt. Painful things happened to him. Now he was good, and he liked it.

Noticing Clark's demeanor was quickly changing, Cassie decided to act immediately, before he entered a state of panic. The doctor rose from the chair and slowly placed her hand on his face. "Clark," she said, as she slowly raised his head. Even thought he didn't resist, he still refused to look directly at her. "Clark, look at me," she softly instructed. She was instantly met with large green eyes. "Why do you like it here?" she asked softly as she rubbed his cheek with her thumb.

Transfixed by the woman's hazel eyes, Clark whispered, "It's nice..."

Smiling, Cassie slowly backed away and sat down. "What's nice?"

Looking to the side towards the wide, green fields, Clark slightly shrugged. "Everything," he said as his grip relaxed on his blanket. He glanced at Cassie for a second before hanging his head once again.

Leaning back in the rocking chair, the woman replied genuinely, "That's good, I'm happy to hear that." At her words, Clark peered upwards and slightly smiled. Attempting to look relaxed and nonchalant, Cassie rested her hand in her hand. "Do you want to stay here?"

"Yes, please," Clark answered more forcefully than usual.

"Okay, then you can stay," the doctor answered while slightly nodding. The answer seemed like a given, but Cassie had to give Clark the choice. This way Clark would hopefully one day realize he was here on his own, free will. He no longer had to depend on people to tell him what to do and when to do it.

"Thank you," the boy replied, smiling a bit afterwards.

Cassie reached across placed her hand on his knee. Her words were important and she wanted to make sure he heard them. "Don't thank me, Clark. It's your decision. You can leave whenever you want to," she calmly explained. Seeing him slightly nod, Cassie switched the topic. "So, what did you do today?"

Right when he was starting to get comfortable again, another question was thrown at the disturbed boy. Clark bit his bottom lip as the words echoed in his mind. 'What did you do today...' He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus on one memory long enough to recognize it. Feeling his chest tighten in apprehension, he glanced back up at Cassie, who was soothingly rubbing her hand on his knee. The sunlight glimmered off her hazel eyes making them appear golden. Triggered by the image, a single memory flew into his mind. "The sun was rising...as you drove," he said slowly, unsure of himself. Trying to hold onto the memory for just a second longer, he closed his eyes. "You were driving...after we left. We...we came here." Clark quickly looked up, his eyes filled with hope.

Thrown off by the answer, Cassie slightly bit her bottom lip. He seemed so proud of himself for remember something, yet he remembered the wrong thing. She didn't have the heart to crush his newfound pride, so as comfortingly as possible she said, "Good job, you remembered." Cassie sincerely smiled for a second before asking, "I forget. When did that happen? Yesterday or today?"

Clark's eyebrows instantly furrowed at her question. "Y-Yesterday...?" he answered his voice high with uncertainty. Staring at the wooden planks, he tried to sort out the random memories soaring through his mind. "Yes, it...it was yesterday..." he muttered, now completely transfixed on his thoughts.

Slightly nodding, Cassie agreed, "Yes, you're right. It was yesterday, wasn't it?"

Clark's head shot up at the sound of her voice, as if he had forgotten she was there. Cassie remained still, appearing as relaxed as possible, until the look of recognition washed over Clark's face. Embarrassed by his sudden movement, Clark slowly looked away and brought the blanket a bit closer to his body.

"So if that happened yesterday, what happened today?" the doctor asked as she brought her hand up to her chin.

"Today..." Clark lipped as a blank stare formed on his face. Cassie watched intensely as his breathing slowed down and he become as still as death. After ten seconds, Cassie turned her head curiously, her anxiety building. Finally, Clark relaxed his body and slowly blinked. "I...I milked a cow," he softly answered with an unknown confidence in his voice

Pleased beyond words, Cassie leaned back in the chair, smiling brightly. His improvement since yesterday was insurmountable. "Anything else happen?" she asked cheerfully, never wanting the miracle to end.

Acting off of Cassie's excitement, Clark smiled as he fidgeted in the chair. He let go of his blanket and placed his hand on his thigh. Closing his eyes, he started lightly rubbing his jeans with his fingertip. The movement seemed so familiar. Never opening his eyes, he answered, "I looked at photos." The image was as clear as day. He was in a room, sitting at a desk with dozens of pictures in front of him. Each one looked so familiar, yet he couldn't place it. Finally, he came across one of a young boy standing next to his father. His eyes never leaving the photograph, he brought his hand up and traced the boy's face with his finger tip.

Her enthusiasm growing, Cassie bit the tip of the thumb. She felt like she was about to explode. The person in front of her obviously excelled in much more than strength and speed. The power of his mind was phenomenal. She could hardly believe it. "What were the photos of?" she asked, never missing a beat.

Clark's right foot started to fervidly fidget against the floor. "They were of...of my family," he answered instinctively, never realizing the meaning behind the words.

Not expecting such a break through for at least another month, Cassie's jaw slightly dropped. "Your family?" she repeated, hoping the repetition would engrave the statement into his mind. "So, who's in your family?"

"My mom and my dad," Clark whispered, as if he was just realizing it himself.

"That's great," Cassie congratulated, wanting to positively build his self-esteem. "Are they nice?"

"Yes..." Clark breathed as a distant look formed on his face. After a second, he quickly blinked, obviously back in reality. "Yes, they are," he confirmed, his voice growing stronger.

Cassie leaned forward in her chair, about to fall to the floor with anticipation. "Do they love you?" she asked eagerly.

Ready to answer, Clark opened his mouth, but suddenly a terrified looked washed over his face. Shocked, Cassie watched silently as Clark sank back in his chair and hugged his blanket, protecting himself for all unwanted evils. The change was almost instantaneous. As quickly as he opened up just minutes earlier, he closed himself from reality.

Becoming worried yet intrigued by the transformation, Cassie leaned closer now only sever inches away from Clark's face. His eyes were squeezed shut, oblivious to the reality that laid beyond the dimension in his abused mind. Inadvertently holding her breath, Cassie watched as Clark flinched against something unknown. "Clark?" she said, her tone strained.

Her voice was left unheard. Clark continued to scoot further back in his chair as his shaking grew considerably. "Clark?" the woman repeated a bit louder, becoming increasingly worried. Trapped within his mind, Clark started spewing incoherent mutterings. Not waiting another second, Cassie leapt off the chair and placed her hands on his cheeks. "Clark! Clark!" she screamed frantically. "Open your eyes! It's not real." Maybe it was her emotional attachment or his unique physiology, but Cassie had never been so concerned for one patient in her entire life. "Please, Clark," she begged as she combed his hair with her fingers. "Open your eyes." Acting on her instinct, she brought her hands down and rubbed his cheek with her thumb.

"Cassie?" Clark whispered his eyes still shut from reality.

"Yes Clark, I'm here," she said as peacefully as she could, even though her voice was trembling with fear. She brought her hands up to his temples and started rubbing them in soothing circles. "Please, Clark, open your eyes."

"I..." Clark whispered as he cautiously peered through one eyes. Instantly he flinched and brought the sheet closer to his chest.

"What is it Clark? What do you hear?" Cassie asked as she ran her hand through his hair.

Clark continuously blanked as if the light hurt his eyes. "Him..." he breathed.

"Him who?" the doctor asked, kneeling beside the boy.

"I...I..." Clark stuttered as he brought his knees up to his chest.

Cassie instantly wrapped her thin arms around his trembling body. Blinking back tears, she whispered, "Don't worry, I'm here. Nothing will hurt you anymore."

**To Be Continued...**


	15. Chapters 23 and 24

**Chapter 23:**

"Mr. Kent," Cassie greeted as she held out her hand for him to shake.

Jonathan enthusiastically shook the psychologist's hand. "Please, call me Jonathan," he stated. Usually he was against any type of mental tampering, such as psychology or therapy. But after what his son had been though, he bit his tongue against any of his previous prejudices, willing to accept any type of help. What good was bringing Clark back home if they failed him now?

"Of course, Jonathan," Cassie replied casually as she tied her hair up in her signature loose pony-tail. Afterwards, she subtly eyed the kitchen table, wanting to keep the discussion comfortable and relaxed for both of them.

Noticing the woman's hint, Jonathan shook his head at his own idiocy. "Of course, please, take a seat."

"Thank you," Cassie smiled as she pulled out a chair.

Eager to get to the point, the father asked as he sat down, "So, how was he?"

"To be completely honest with you, Clark is recovering at an unheard of pace," Dr. Harris started, trying to tone down her pride and enthusiasm for the boy. The last thing she wanted to do was raise the man's hopes, only to have him be disappointed. "But, we still have a long way to go," she warned as she folded her arms across the table.

"Well, Clark has always been...unique," Jonathan proudly commented, smiling at the doctor's good news.

Placing a strand of hair behind her ear, Cassie candidly stated, "That's what worries me, Jonathan. I only know the tendencies of the human brain, anything else is just an educated guess." Her eyebrows raised with concern, she continued never breaking eye-contact, "For all we know, Clark could have a relapse any second."

The realization hitting him full force, Jonathan leaned back in his chair. The thought never occurred to him. He spent so much of his life considering Clark as human as the next person, it was hard to think otherwise, especially when his son was so human at heart. Glancing back up at the woman, the father nervously whispered, "Is it likely?"

"I honestly have no idea," the doctor answered, her voice soft with concern. Trying to turn the conversation on a more positive note, Cassie continued, "What I can say though is that Clark is remarkably like a typical human being, just...advanced. Therefore, his healing will most likely continue to be the same way."

Understanding the doctor's words but not the message behind them, the farmer curiously asked, "What does that mean?"

"Pretty much, at this point, all I can tell you to do is rebuild his security," Cassie bluntly stated. She bit her thumb nail, trying the best way to word the next suggestion. "Right now, he's regaining much of his memory back through flashbacks, but with that comes unpleasant flashbacks of his time at the laboratory." She leaned forward before continuing with the next part. "Even though this may be frightening at times, encourage him. He must remember his past, even if it is haunted."

In the adjoining room, Martha happily sat with her son playing a game of Yahtzee. When Dr. Harris came in, she asked her to play a loud game with Clark in the family room while she talked to Mr. Kent. Even though Martha and Jonathan thought it was an odd request, Martha complied, knowing it was probably just a way to distract Clark while she talked with Jonathan. She quietly watched as Clark threw the dice in the box, getting his fourth 'six'. As casually as possible, Martha merrily commented, "You were always better at this game than me."

Clark remained silent as he picked up the dice and marked the 'four-of-a-kind' box on his pad. He casually handed the dice to his mother, his eyes never leaving his pad. He intently watched as his mom tossed the dice into the box. "We used to play this together?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Smiling at her son's random but settle outburst, Martha proudly answered, "Yup, especially in the winter." She paused for a moment, trying to remember any detail that may trig his memory. "We would sit right by the fireplace, since John...Dad was so against turning on the furnace," she joked as she eyed the empty stone hearth.

"Oh," Clark breathed as he hung his head a bit more.

Not wanting to draw too much attention to his memory loss, Martha threw the dice again. "I remember one Christmas Eve we played this...oh God, it must have been something like-"

"Five hours," Clark softly chimed in. "A new record."

Her eyes wide with surprise, Martha could only stare at her son. Finally regaining her composure, Martha muttered, "Yeah," as she blinked back tears. She slowly reached her hand outward and brushed Clark's hair out of his face. "You remember?" His eyes never leaving the forgotten dice in front of him, he slightly nodded. "What do you remember?" Martha calmly asked, remembering what Dr. Harris said about the tone of their questions. Clark merely shrugged in response. Softly rubbing his shoulder, Martha lightly urged, "Well, you must remember something."

Biting his bottom lip, Clark closed his eyes, searching his mind for any type of detail to please his mother. She deserved so much, yet he could give her so little. It wasn't fair. He wanted to make her proud of him, even if it was only for a moment. Yet, the harder he tried, the more stubborn his mind became. Clenching his eyes shut, he tried to think of something...anything. He had to. He had to make them proud. He had to gain their acceptance. Be right...be good. Be anything. Be something.

Noticing Clark's breathing was becoming harsh as if he was exerting himself, Martha quickly became worried. "Clark, open your eyes," she instructed as she moved in front of him. At her command, his eyes shot open, wide with surprise. "Clark?" Martha asked as she brushed a couple stray strands of hair out of his face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he hung his head.

Martha instantly placed her hand under his chin and lifted his head. "You have nothing to sorry for. I'm proud of you," she stated, genuinely smiling.

"Really?" Clark asked, his green eyes wide with hope.

"Of course."

**To Be Continued...**

oOo

**Chapter 24:**

Like a fly on the wall, Cassie quietly observed as the Kent family silently ate their dinner. The only noise that could be heard throughout the house was the occasional awkward cough and the Grandfather clock slowly ticking the seconds away. At first, Cassie opposed to eating with the family, not wanting to impose on their valuable time together, but when they insisted, she realized it would be a great opportunity to watch the group function. Yet, once dinner was served, an awkward stillness settled over the table, and the silence was starting to get to her. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but luckily Martha beat her to it.

"More mashed potatoes, anyone?" she offered as she held p the bowl.

"No, thank you," Cassie answered covering her moth as she swallowed another bite of chicken.

Martha looked around the table in earnest. Jonathan politely held up his hand, waving them away. "Clark?" Martha asked as she gestured towards the bowl.

The boy had barely moved since he sat down. He had been stealthily eating his food, hoping he would go unnoticed. "No, thank you," he muttered, his eyes never leaving his plate.

Cassie watched as Martha put the bowl down, defeated. Like a heavy fog, the silence settled over the family once more. Shifting in her seat. Cassie couldn't help but wonder what their dinners were like a year ago, before an unknown force would tear the family apart. She was sure, much like their house, their family was the symbol of perfection. Clark would talk about his day at school. Afterwards, Jonathan would bring up a list of chores Clark needed to complete. Meanwhile, Martha would make sure everything was cooked to perfection. Realizing her own absurdity, Cassie shook the image out of her head. No family behaved like that, except for the ones in fifties sitcoms. She, of all people, should know every family had their problems, no matter how perfect they appeared.

All of the sudden, Cassie felt a pang in her heart. Look at the sullen parents, she saw her own parents in their seats, looking at their child with unspoken sympathy. She could still remember the endless hours sitting in front of her mother and father, pretending she couldn't feel their eyes on her. She constantly rearranged the food on her plate, like Clark was doing now, as the image of her brother's death played over and over in her head. She finally realized what the lab at done. They tore a family apart, leaving nothing but the remains, and she was a part of it.

Noticing the sick look on the girl's face, Martha asked, "Cassie, are you feeling alright?"

"Y-Yes, fine," Cassie rattled off, snapping out of her stupor. Desperate to change the subject, she complimented, "This is a lovely home you have here."

"Why, thank you," Martha smiled. "Even though it's silly of me to take credit for it, it's been in Jonathan's family for years."

Glad to find an opening for a conversation, Cassie said, "Oh really? So it's like a heirloom."

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Martha answered as she slightly nodded. Turning her attention towards the empty plates, she asked, "Is everybody done?" as she stood up. Seeing her husband and Cassie nod, she grabbed the plates and placed them in the sink.

Cassie politely wiped her mouth with the napkin from her lap and placed it on the table. "Thank you. It was very delicious."

"It was no trouble at all," Martha commented as she turned back towards the table. "Clark, are you done?" she asked, eyeing his half-eaten chicken. She waited a couple second for a response, yet he remained motionless. Trying to get a better look of his face, the mother hunched over and brushed a couple strands of hair away from his eyes. "Clark?"

Instantly, his head shot up, blinking surprise out of his eyes. "Y-Yes?" he softly questioned, glancing towards his mother.

"Are you done, sweetheart?" she asked again as she placed her hand on his plate.

Clark looked down at his plate for a second, as if he was seriously debating the answer. "Y...Yes. Thank you," he answered, placing his fork and his knife on the plate, so it would be easier for the woman to take it to the sink.

Cassie casually observed Clark as he closed himself off from the table. Tilting her head, she noticed the dark circles around his eyes. As if he felt her eyes on him, Clark bent his head down even further, hiding his tired eyes behind a curtain of bangs. "You look tired, Clark," Cassie commented as she cautiously laid her hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to go to sleep?"

Wrapping his arms around himself, Clark answered barely above a whisper, "Yes, please."

Cassie evenly rubbed his tense shoulder. "Well, if your tired, just go to bed. You don't have to ask."

Clark peered through his long bangs at his parents, silently asking their permission. Jonathan and Martha remained motionless, knowing Clark had to act upon himself. It was just one more step to showing him he was his own person. After several long seconds, Clark looked back at Cassie, hoping she would give him a sign of approval. Only met with a kind stare and a slight smile, Clark nervously stood up and pushed in his seat. He paused for a moment, looking at the trio one last time. Biting his bottom lip, Clark grabbed his blanket off the couch and headed towards the steps.

"Goodnight, son," Jonathan said from his spot at the table.

Halfway up the stairs, Clark glanced back. "Goodnight," he said as he finished climbing the stairs. The whole trip he couldn't think of anything else but sinking into the warm comfortable mattress, yet once he reached the room he felt at a lost of what to do. For a couple seconds, he paced around the room, his fingers trailing along the wall.

When he reached his desk, he came to a sudden halt. The photo album from earlier was left open. He looked down at the happy, smiling faces and wondered what he was missing. The family seemed so close to him, almost attainable, yet every time he reached out they would slip through his fingertips. He had no idea how long he was standing there, looking down at the immaculate photo, but he felt as if maybe he stared long enough, everything would snap into place. He would no longer be living in a confused world where what's expected is never what was taught. He would gain the life of the boy in the picture.

He slowly reached out, wanting to feel the connection between the boy and himself. The instant his skin touched the soft plastic a soft whisper drifted through the air. 'It doesn't exist.' Startled, Clark glanced around the empty room. It seemed so peaceful, yet the end seemed like a hiss, as if it was mocking the boy.

oOo

"Thank you so much for everything," Martha stated as she grabbed Dr. Harris's coat from the hall closet.

"Seriously, it's my pleasure. Clark proves to be a very unique patient." Cassie slung her black, leather purse over her shoulder and turned towards the door. "I'll be staying at the Smallville Motel for the next couple weeks. My number is on the table if you need anything."

Surprised that Cassie wouldn't be returning home, Martha exclaimed, "Oh! I had no idea you would be staying in Smallville. We'd be happy to have you here."

Cassie smiled at the woman's endless generosity. It was something so subtle yet forgotten in a city like Metropolis. "Thanks for the offer, but I think it would be better for Clark if he doesn't become dependant on me." She casually opened the door and glanced back at the parents, "After all, I'm not gonna be here forever." She genuinely smiled afterwards, showing she knew her place in the family.

"Yes. I see..." Martha replied, returning the woman's smile. "Before you leave though, can you say bye to Clark? I'm sure it would mean a lot to him."

Shocked by her own negligence, Cassie exclaimed, "Oh! Of course! That would be excellent." She turned towards Martha and placed her hand on her shoulder. "You are going to do great while I'm gone," she reassured, knowing the mother would fill her shoes at Clark's protector better than she ever could.

"Thank you," Martha whispered, her eyes sparkling with joy.

"I'll get him," Jonathan volunteered as he headed up the stairs. He slowly approach Clark's door, not wanting to scare the confused boy. He paused for a second behind the closed door, praying to anyone who would listen to heal his son. Whatever happened to Clark over the past year was too much for Jonathan to bear. All this time, he naively thought when Clark returned through would be a few emotional wrinkles to work out, but nothing as dramatic as this. It was like the boy behind the door wasn't even Clark. He was just a lifeless shell of what his son once was. Every time Jonathan looked into his eyes, instead of seeing the cheerful, innocent sparkle he loved, the father was met with a blank stare, as if the life had been ripped out of him.

Taking a deep breath, Jonathan cautiously opened the door, no sure what would be awaiting for him on the other side. What he saw shocked him to his very core. Clark was huddled against the wall rubbing his hands against his temples, as if his head was about to explode. His heart dropping to his stomach, Jonathan ran to Clark's side and fell to his knees. "Clark!"

Turning away from the voice, Clark muttered, "I know. I know. I'm sorry."

Rubbing his son's shoulders, Jonathan coaxed, "Clark it's me, Dad. Open your eyes."

The pain was horrendous. Clark never thought pain like that ever existed. Whatever was happening, all he could do was beg for it to stop. He had to comply, to lie, even if it only granted him one second of peace. "No dad. Never existed. Live here. Always have."

Losing his calm, Jonathan grabbed Clark's forearms. "Clark! Open your eyes. It's not real!"

Clark had no idea how long he was there. How long he was trapped away from the life he loved. How long he was neglected from the loving touch of his parents. Everyday, they would come in and feed him lies, and he would rebel them. Yet, everyday it became more and more difficult to oppose them. The only place he would see his house was in his dreams, and lately he would catch himself thinking maybe that was the only place it ever existed. He knew thoughts like that were dangerous. If he caved in, they would win. He would just become a creature, with no feelings, but it became harder and harder to believe help was coming.

Jonathan watched in terror as Clark's breaths became shorter and harsher. "Clark!" he desperately cried, shaking the boy's shoulders.

"Please...stop..." Clark begged through his tears.

Jonathan paused for a moment, staring at Clark's tear-filled eyes. He had no idea what was going on through is son's mind right now, all he knew was that he had to snap him out of it. "Clark!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "What you see isn't real!"

Clark violently shook his head, trying to get out of Jonathan's grasp. "I came to conquer. I must be contained," he whispered, reciting what was said to him hour after hour.

Reaching his own breaking point, Jonathan grabbed either side of Clark's head. "Look at me," he instructed, blinking back his own tears. "It's not real. You're home," he stated as he hold Clark's head still.

For an endless second, Clark's shallow breaths were the only sound that filled the room. Blinking back his tears, Clark breathed, "Dad?" Before Jonathan could respond, Clark flung his arms around his father. Burying his head into his father's strong shoulder, Clark whispered, his voice full of relief, "Dad...I missed you. I missed you so much..."

"Oh God, Clark," Jonathan sighed. Gently, he moved his shoulder away from Clark's face and looked into his son's eyes. Slightly smiling, the father wrapped his arms around his boy. Clark was back.

To Be Continued…

Next Chapter: The arrival of Chloe!


	16. Chapters 25 and 26

**Petite reminder: **Takes place during what would be 3rd season. So pretty much Clark was abducting middle of 2nd season and returned 3rd season. Yeah...

**Chapter 25:**

Chloe drove down the lonesome Kansas road. Somehow every time she made the tedious trip she felt the abandoned fields were mocking her, knowing that even they have forgotten what she could not. A year ago, almost to the day, her dearest friend had disappeared off the face of the earth without so much as a fingerprint left behind. At first everyone was eager to help find the ever selfless Clark Kent, but as the weeks slowly dwindled by, each hour coming up with nothing, people gradually began to lose hope and tried to move on with their lives. The problem was they couldn't. Unable to face her true feelings, Lana moved to Paris for an Art History program she read about. No longer having the motivation to stay, Lex Luthor barely even visited Smallville anymore. Even Pete lost himself in school work and his newfound hobby - drag racing, as he tried to forget the disappearance of his best friend and the invisible guilt that lingered with it.

For the last three months, Chloe was the lone warrior on her mission to find the young hero, except for the Kents of course. Yet she could tell, like everybody else, their hope was hanging by a thread, ready to snap at any second. For a while, Chloe had been preparing for them to give up, especially with the one-year anniversary fast approaching. Of course she couldn't blame them if and when they did. Every time she visited their house with a new collection of information, she could see the pained look on their face. The look of utter despair and failure, knowing that they did not have the power to save their son from the inevitable.

Chloe was surprised how they hid Clark's secret from everyone for so long. She, herself, didn't know until three months ago. It was the day Pete finally called it quits. Chloe had already been nearing her breaking point. For the past couple months, she knew there was something more behind the story that the Kents weren't telling her, and whatever it was Pete knew it too.

Chloe had been pressuring Pete to let go of the secret, convincing him that all she wanted to do was help. He was about to snap, she could tell. Yet, instead of telling her what she was dying to know, he stood up angrily and stormed out of the room. She could tell he couldn't take the stress anymore. Deciding to give him a break, she headed towards the farm house. But as she drove, her frustration continued to build. What was so important that she, the self-appointed leader of the 'find Clark group', couldn't know? She remembered the rest of the day like it was yesterday...

By the time she reached the farmhouse, Chloe's frustration about Pete's hidden secrets had already boiled over into anger. Mascara running down her face, she slammed the door open. The girl was instantly greeted by a startled Martha Kent. Tossing her small box of gathered information on the floor, the young reporter exclaimed, "All this stuff is useless, isn't it!"

Her mother's instincts kicking in, Martha rushed over to Chloe's side. "Oh, honey what's the matter?" she asked, her arms outstretched.

Chloe instantly brushed off the woman's arms and took a couple steps backwards. No matter how comforting the woman was, she was still in the cruel secret gang that refused Chloe entrance. "I want to know!" she shouted in between her tears. "I want to know Clark's secret. I want know what everyone is hiding from me, including Pete!" Seeing the hurt look on Martha's face, Chloe paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. "Please, stop insulting my intelligence," she begged as she brushed a stray stand of hair out of her face. "I knew Clark was hiding something even before his disappearance. And I know his secret is tied to his disappearance. Please, I want to know." She looked down at the hundreds of papers she collected over the months now scattered on the kitchen floor. "I deserve to know."

Martha placed a gentle hand on Chloe's shoulder. "We aren't-"

Utterly exhausted, Chloe turned towards Martha. "What good is it hiding it now? You can't protect him anymore," she interrupted, her voice eerily calm.

The next two hours were filled with more revelations than Chloe could ever dream of. At first she thought it was some type of sick joke. Her best friend...an alien? But the more Mr. and Mrs. Kent explain the more everything seemed to fall together. The lies, the secrets, the way he would constantly disappear in the blink of an eye. It all tied together. For so long, she was craving to know the secret behind the mysterious green eyes, yet now it was too late. She couldn't save him. She knew she couldn't. But part of her knew she had to try.

Later that evening, she threw away her old 'missing child' research and trying to find 'alien found' news articles on the web. On her bedroom nightstand, her cell phone began to ring her favorite tune. She quickly rushed towards it and smiled as Pete's name appeared on the screen. "Hey there, I'm really sor-" she started, but was quickly interrupted by Pete's distraught voice.

"Chloe, I'm not angry. I just...I can't take it anymore," Pete explained, his voice breaking a bit more with every word. "The stress...the guilt. It's just too much. I'm sorry. I just want to forget and try to move on with my life."

"Pete! Listen to me!" she shouted her voice brimming with excitement. "I know now too! The Kents told me. You don't have to quit. We can work on this together. I'm sorry but I didn't understand before, now I do."

"No! You don't understand, Chlo! I knew! I've known for over a year now! I could have done something! I should have checked up on him more..." There was a long pause on the line. "I should've done...something," he muttered, his frustration and evident.

Chloe whispered, "Pete." She could hit herself for never noticing how his guilt was quietly tearing her poor friend apart. "It's not your fault. There's nothing you could've-"

"I don't want to hear it!" Pete instantly exclaimed. "I'm tired of hearing it...from the Kents and now from you. I even tell it to myself. But the moment I think of Clark...in some type of lab..." He paused again to choke back a sob. "He's probably dead now," he stated, his tears evident even through the phone. "I just...I can't...not any more..." he muttered incoherently through his tears.

Speechless, Chloe clung to the phone with both hands. "I...I understand," she managed to whisper, ignoring her own silent tears.

"Thanks Chlo," Pete answered before hanging up.

Three months later, Chloe was still determined as ever. She supposed she always would be; it was the reporter instinct in her. She could barely let go of a story, let alone a dear friend. She glanced in the review mirror at her box overflowing with information. Soon she would have to find a bigger box. Sighing, she turned her attention back towards the road, slowly making her way to the Kent farm.

Eyeing the old, wooden sign, she turned onto the driveway, preparing herself another long day of searching and exploring to find the answer...even a hint would be a nice change. As she shifted her Volkswagen beetle into park, she glanced out the window to see one sight she thought she would never see again. Clark Kent.

**To Be Continued...**

oOo

**Chapter 26: **

It had been a week since Clark's miraculous recovery. Everyday since had it's ups and downs, yet just the look of recognition on Clark's face when he looked at his parents was reward enough for the Kents. It had been a relatively uneventful day as Clark bailed what seemed like a never ending stack of hay in the front yard by the barn entrance.

Without warning he heard an ear-piercing scream behind him. " Clark!" Even though all of his instincts were tell him to use his super-speed, for some reason his mind screamed otherwise. It was a common and familiar battle between his mind and his heart. He felt using his powers exposed himself to the world, therefore making him different. And he wasn't human when he was different. He was just a thing, with no thought or emotion. So, against his better judgment, he slowly glanced behind him. He barely had a chance to look before a body collided against him wrapping their arms around his neck. "Oh my God, Clark!" another broken cry tore through the air.

He was here...in her arms. Chloe could barely believe it. It had been so long. She prayed that the moment would come when she could feel his warmth again, and now that he was here she never wanted the moment to end. She never felt the tears of joy slide down her checks, or how the boy's muscles tensed beneath her arms. None of it mattered to her. All that mattered was that second. That one second where everything fell back into place.

Yet, that second never happened. Without warning, Chloe felt strong arms push against her...hard. Stumbling backwards over her own feet, the only thing that kept her upright was her inner grace. As quickly as the pieces were placed back together, it shattered, leaving her alone and confused. "C-Clark?" she whispered, blinking the once tears joy out of her eyes.

Clark quickly wrapped his arms around himself, as he took a couple steps backwards. They were here. They found him. He didn't know how, but they did. He supposed they would. It was too good to be true. Now, they were trying to take him back, force him into a van as they did so many months ago. He needed to fun. But where? They would always find him. He wasn't meant to live amongst humans. He knew. He always did, even before they found him. They just helped him figure it out. Now they came back to help him find out more things about himself. But he didn't want their help. Can't they just leave him alone?

Chloe watched in horror as Clark continued to walk backwards while slowly shaking his head. His long, wavy hair felt down over his eyes, masking the fear that lay behind them. Her voice caught in her throat, she could only stare as the boy backed up against the barn. Transfixed by his broken appearance and incoherent mutterings, she slowly lifted up a hand before springing into action. She quickly ran to Clark's side, naively wondering what had disturbed her friend so much. In the deepest depths of her mind she knew it was what happened to him over the past year, yet her heart couldn't accept it yet.

Finally reaching his side, she placed a shaky hand on his arm, only to have him flinch away. But, unnerved, the girl persisted. " Clark?" she asked as she finally made stable contact with his arm. " Clark, please, look at me." Her voice shook with sadness and doubt, yet she words remained as confident as her touch. Chloe watched silently as the boy's trembling decreased. Never faltering, she placed her hand on his cheek, and guided him towards her face. Seeing his nervous green eyes, she asked once again, " Clark?" her own eyes wide with hope. Then she smiled.

That smile. He'd seen it before. Clark tilted his head slightly, looking at the girl's face for one long moment. It was the same smile that greeted him every morning when he boarded the bus. It was the same smile that shined with satisfaction after cracking that week's mystery. It was the smile he knew. The smile he loved. "Chloe?" the boy asked his voice barely above a whisper.

The smile still plastered to her face, Chloe swallowed barely able to contain her joy. It took everything in her power to not through her arms around him once again. She merely nodded, her own eyes filled with delight. What happened next was the last thing she expected. Warm arms wrapped around her and the words, "Chloe, oh, Chloe," were whispered repeatedly in her ear. Not depriving her own arms any longer, she hugged back, welcoming the warmth back into her life.

Chloe didn't know how long they stayed like that, the sound of each other's breaths mending their broken hearts. Realizing her muscles were becoming stiff, she slowly pulled away, her eyes never leaving his face. She swore she could look at that face for the rest of her life. Her eyes clear from the tears, she noticed the long, thin scar running down Clark's left cheek. Her face crumpled at the sight of it. It somehow represented all the cruelty Clark must have endured over the past year. All naive fantasies that maybe Clark left on his own or was treated like a guest instead of a mouse rat vanished at the sight of the mark that branded his beautiful face. "Oh, Clark..." she muttered as she reached across.

Seeing the ever familiar look of sympathy on the girl's face, Clark instantly looked away and side-stepped the approaching hand. He nervously rubbed his left arm as he hanged his head. "I-I...um..." he stuttered, swallowing afterwards.

Noticing Clark's unease, Chloe quickly retracted her hand and asked, "Why don't we go to the barn...talk in the loft?" The topic seems platonic and simple enough. She could tell Clark was on edge, ready to fall apart at her feet.

Clark glanced up at her for a second. "The loft?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Thrown off by Clark's question, Chloe looked at him skeptically for a second. "Yeah. You know. Your 'fortress of solitude'," she answered, mimicking a low, serious voice at the end. Chloe became increasingly worried as Clark continued to stare at her with the same blank expression. "You did your homework up there. The place with the telescope...so you could look at the stars," the girl urged, her words coming a bit faster every second.

"Oh! That place!" Clark exclaimed, the memory snapping into place. Nodding he continued, "Yeah I remember...the loft." He hated it when that happened. For some reason he would catch himself lost within his own mind, trying to pinpoint what people were talking about. It was as if his memories were no longer emotionally attached to him, just scenes played in a movie he saw. It seemed to be happening less frequently. But each time, when he looked at his parents' concerned faces, he became more and more frustrated.

Yet, this time it involved Chloe. No doubt she would realize something is wrong with him. Something was missing. He was now a broken toy that couldn't be fixed. He prayed she wouldn't notice. But the moment he looked at her worried face, he knew she must have caught it. He knew what must be going through her mind right now, since it was going through his own. He was no longer the Clark she loved and missed. He was just a shadow of what he once was: the perfect boy that no one could forget. He was his own replacement. And no one can ever love the replacement as much as the original. A call from the house snapped Clark out of his thoughts.

" Clark! You still out there?" He turned towards the house the second his mother stepped onto the porch. " Clark! What's ke-...Chloe! What are you doing here?" Martha asked, shocked, as she ran towards her son. She knew Chloe would never hurt Clark. Yet, Clark was still emotionally fragile, and they never knew what could set him off.

"I was just stopping by to-" Chloe stopped mid-sentence, for some reason scared to reveal that she came by to research Clark's disappearance in front of Clark. She couldn't exactly place why she was so cautious, she supposed it had something to do with the fact that know she knew Clark's secret, and she wasn't sure how much his parents have told him yet.

Seeing the look of discomfort on Chloe's face, Martha instantly changed topics. "Well, I just finished dinner if you would like to come inside and eat with us."

Chloe turned to her friend and answered, "It's up to Clark," slightly smiling afterwards.

There was a moment of silence before Clark realized they were both looking at him. Snapping out of his thoughts, Clark hastily answered, "Huh? Oh, yeah. Of course you can come. I mean...if you want to."

Her smile only growing, Chloe responded, "Well, I guess it's settled then."

**To Be Continued...**


	17. Chapters 27 and 28

**Chapter 27:**

Silence filled the kitchen like a thick fog everyone chose to ignore. Chloe glanced around the table, watching each person as they continued to eat soundlessly. She paused for a moment when she saw Clark. The girl had never seen him eat so cautiously in her life. It was as if the boy thought at any moment the chicken would revolt and attack. Biting her lip, she turned her attention back toward her own plate, starting to realize the destruction her friend had endured.

As the minutes passed, Chloe's urge for conversation grew into an uncontrollable need. "So, Clark..." she started, subtly placing her knife next to her plate. She paused, waiting for some type of acknowledgement, but it never came. She glanced at the two parents who were giving her a sympathetic look before turning her attention back towards her friend. Deciding to try again, she opened her mouth, but suddenly something caught her eye. Clark's knife lied next to his plate, untouched. Looking at the chicken, she realized Clark had been using his fork to cut through the meat. Tightly pressing her lips together, she idly wondered whether it was a trait he possessed all along that she had earlier missed or if it was another sign of his turmoil at God-knows-where.

Noticing the girl's unease, Martha turned towards Clark. "Clark, Chloe's talking to you," she stated, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Clark instantly jumped in his seat at the feel of someone grabbing him. Looking wildly around the room, he quickly realized where he was...and where he wasn't. "I'm sorry. What?" he softly asked as he glanced around the table.

"Chloe said something to you," the mother explained, her hand falling limply on the table. Clark looked at Chloe with no vindication or even fear, just humiliation.

Startled by the reaction but choosing not to acknowledge it, Chloe plainly said, "Oh nothing. I was just wondering if you wanted to go see a movie or something this weekend."

The mere thought of leaving the farm and the security brought with it terrified the young man. He glanced towards his parents, who were caught up in their own silent conversation between each other. Still unsure of what was right, what was expected, he looked back at the girl, her small smile strengthening him, even if just a bit. "I...Maybe..." he started, at a pure loss of words. He didn't want to disappoint his friend, but, at the same time, the thought of being taken away shook him too the core so much he didn't want to do anything to tempt his fate. "What if we..." he started, praying someone would finish his sentence.

Martha could see the struggle her son was going through. He felt like he needed to please everyone. To be honest, she didn't like the thought of him leaving quite yet, not without them knowing the whereabouts or specifics of the lab that held him for so long. "What if you guys rented a movie or two and watched it here?" she offered. "Pete can come too."

"Of course!" Chloe exclaimed a bit too dramatically. Too be honest, she felt wholly ashamed that amidst the excitement of Clark's return she had forgotten about her other friend, who was much more in need of seeing Clark than she could ever comprehend. "Yeah, we could get some popcorn and blankets and move the furniture out of the living room."

Clark slightly smiled at the thought of it. It seemed so...normal. He glanced up at the girl, enticed by her bright green eyes that sparkled with acceptance. Not sympathy or even compassion. Just acceptance. The one thing he spent his whole time looking for and it was right in front of him. She may not know what had happened to him, and hopefully she never would, but she accepted him all the same. Took him for what he was. Nothing more. Nothing less. Looking back at his hands, his smile subtly grew. "That would be nice."

oOo

The dusk sky highlighting the flourishing landscape, Martha watched as Chloe slowly approached her car. She softly sighed, her mind torn with anxiety and doubt. From the moment Chloe arrived, she felt an unease settle over the house, unsure of what to expect. Chloe had no idea how distraught her son was when he first returned. Therefore, the girl hadn't the slightest idea what may disturb or frighten her son. Too be honest, she, herself, barely had an understanding of what was fearsome in Clark's eyes.

She glanced back at Clark and her husband, who were clearing the table and washing the dishes, so she wouldn't have to. Smiling in silent gratitude, she turned her attention back towards the girl. At the sound of the engine, Martha quickly sprinted outside and stopped Chloe just in time.

She knew what she was about to tell the girl may be disturbing and hard for the both of them, but the mother felt like they had been walking on egg shells all afternoon waiting for the girl to naively slip up. Of course, Martha would have no one to blame but herself if such an event did take place, since she had not warned Chloe ahead of time. Yet Martha would like to avoid the situation all together, instead of tempting fate even more. Chloe had the right to know what the rest of them did, for their sake and Clark's.

Chloe saw Martha dart towards her car and instantly turned off the engine, wondering if something was wrong. Opening up the door, she met the mother half way, her eyebrows raised in question.

"Chloe, we should talk..."

oOo

Clark silently washed a plate and placed them on the counter for his father to dry. Noticing his father was quickly falling behind in the drying, he curiously glanced towards the man wondering what was wrong. Clark slightly smiled at the sight of his father, who was watching the same plate for the past three minutes, intently watching the baseball game from his spot in the kitchen. "I think it's dry," Clark stated, his voice barely above a whisper.

Snapping out of his trance, Jonathan turned towards Clark. "What?" he asked, not hearing his soft-spoken son over the roar of the crowd.

"I said I..." Clark swallowed hard. Fear brewed inside of him as he sought the courage to answer the question. He just had to constantly remind himself he was home with his father, not trapped in some confided cell with some unknown scientist. "I...think it's dry," he finished, heavily exhaling afterwards.

Jonathan looked at his son a moment, confused by his words, before glancing back down at the bone dry plate in his hand. Softly chuckling, he shook his head and softly squeezed his son's shoulder before placing the dish in the cupboard. Even if they were still far away from a full recovery, Clark had been making a definite progress with each passing day. Smiling, he turned back towards his son and picked up another wet plate.

Clark smiled in return as he placed the last dish on the counter and grabbed another towel to help his father dry. Noticing there was one person missing from the group, he glanced around the room for his mother, only to find she was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, he focused his hearing, wondering where she could have gone. 'Chloe, we should talk...' his mother's voice drifted into his ear. His heart caught in his throat, Clark placed the still damp dish on the counter and whispered, "I'll be right back," before darting towards the door.

His feet could not get to his mother fast enough. He knew she would tell her, he could tell how nervous his mother was with Chloe around with nothing to stop his friend from saying the wrong thing. But that was what he liked about Chloe...what he took comfort in. Her innocence...her naivety. She was his chance to go back to living his life as if the last year had never happened.

He did not want her to become like his parents or even like Cassie, who tried their hardest but still looked at him with pity in their eyes. He didn't need their pity, didn't want their pity. He just wanted to feel like he belonged there. Feel like he was a part of their world, no matter what his background or heritage may be. Deep down, he knew he would get acceptance from them no matter who or what he was, after all his parents did raise him and Cassie rescued him. But, with Chloe, he felt like he had earned it. He couldn't explain it, but he had an overwhelming feeling of self-worth when he looked at her, and he didn't want to lose it.

"Mom, can you come please come inside?" Clark called as he rushed onto the porch.

Startled, Martha turned around towards Clark, hearing the urgency in his voice. "Of course, be right there," she answered. Glancing back at Chloe, Martha whispered, "Never mind, I'll tell you another time." Chloe could wait. Her son needed her now.

With help of his advanced hearing, Clark heard the hushed words and sighed with relief. He knew it was wrong to use it, especially when his parents didn't know about it. He couldn't quite remember when he had even developed the new super power. All he knew is how often it came in handy while he was trapped within the silent confines of his cell. He didn't know why, but he wasn't ready to expose it quite yet. Maybe a part of him thought it would be the straw that broke the camel's back, and he would be labeled 'different' for the rest of his life.

But not of it mattered right now. Right now his mother was heading back inside and Chloe was safe. Safe from knowing the truth. Maybe one day there would be nothing to hide and he could finally expose himself to the world. Yet, deep down, he knew that such a day was only alive in his dreams.

**To Be Continued...**

oOo

**Chapter 28: **

'You'll never escape.'

The statement hissed through Clark's mind, wrapping itself around each of his thoughts.

'There is nothing beyond here.'

The voice found its prey. Its teeth bared, it prepared to strike.

'You have no home.'

In an instant it struck. Sharp pain filled Clark's mind, making him weak in the knees. Its venom seeped through his thoughts, leaving nothing but disdain and emptiness. Reaching out for support, he only grasped air before collapsing to the ground. Struggling for breath, he blinked against the darkness that surrounded him. Out of the shadows a silhouette slowly approached him. At the sight of the large knife the man was wielding, Clark frantically tried to move away, his sluggish limbs not cooperating. "Please..." he whispered, his eyes rolling in the back of his head.

Clark awoke with a gasp. Placing a shaky hand over his heart, he tried to blink the haze out of his eyes. " Clark..." a concerned voice echoed in his ears. Shocked and confused, he glanced towards the source of the voice, relieved to find it was only his mother.

Frowning with sympathy, Martha ran her hand through his hair, like she used to when he was a child. Just a minute earlier she had been walking up the stairs with a basket full of clean laundry. Pushing against the door, she opened her eyes to the pure, hidden trauma her son was faced in his subconscious. "Please..." the heart-wrenching whisper echoed throughout the room. Dropping the basket, she ran to the shaken boy's bedside and placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping to wake him up. As if triggering an alarm within him, Clark instantly gasped at the touch and opened his eyes.

Martha had known her son had been getting a definite lack of sleep over the past several days. Yet, whenever she brought up the subject, Clark instantly closed up and busied himself with something else. That did not stop the mother from trying. Martha opened her mouth to say something but was cut short when Clark awkwardly stood up and walked towards his dresser, as if sensing her desire to help. " Clark...do you want to talk about it?" Martha asked, leaning to the side to see around his broad shoulders.

Without hesitation, Clark drearily shook his head. He heard the frustrated sigh that escaped his mother's lips, even though it was softer than a whisper. But refused to comment on it, knowing it would only lead to further questions. More questions he was not ready to answer.

oOo

The loud bring of the timer echoing through out the empty house, Martha rushed down the steps and turned the egg timer to a halt. She gently pulled open the oven door and checked on the delectable oatmeal cookies. She debated for a moment whether or not to pull them out, but figuring Clark's current session with Dr. Harris would soon be over, she decided now would be the perfect time for the cookies to cool off.

The moment she sat down on her wary feet the porch door swung open revealing the young Dr. Harris. All thoughts of cookies and sore muscles forgotten, Martha quickly stood up to greet the psychologist.

"No need to stand up," Dr. Harris said as she entered the kitchen. She softly smiled afterwards, her admiration towards the mother only growing. Even though she had only met the parents a couple of times, she already understood their personalities and motives. It was one of the definite advantages of going into the field of psychology. Martha Kent fit the role of what Cassie liked to call 'mother hen', almost perfectly. Even though people usually use the term as an insult, Cassie always found the type to be the most loving and accepting of people.

Martha smiled in return and pulled out a chair. "Please take a seat."

As Dr. Harris moved towards the chair, she noticed the woman glancing beyond her, obviously expecting to see Clark enter any minute. " Clark went to the barn to help his father," she stated, wanting to quell any worries the mother may have. Nodding in response, Martha sat down and placed her hands clasped in front of her, obviously nervous about the doctor's report. Cassie slightly leaned forward in her chair. "May I just say Clark is recovering remarkably well. It still astounds me how much his memory has seemingly improved overnight."

Smiling, Martha commented, "To be honest, it slightly shocked us too."

Leaning in a bit farther, Cassie continued in a soft tone, "Something troubles me though. He seemed very distant today. Emotionally detached almost." Cassie licked her lips before continuing, "The last time I saw him he would have episodes where he would withdrawal from reality, but this was much different. Today, he just seemed uninterested. Has he been like this a lot lately?"

Knowing immediately what Dr. Harris was talking about, Martha answered, "It just started a couple days ago. Around the same time as the nightmares. I just assumed it was because he wasn't getting much sleep."

Cassie instantly furrowed her brow. "'Nightmares?' He didn't mention them during our session. How bad are they?"

Martha sighed at the question. She wasn't sure if she was being the overprotective mother again, but to be honest the past nights have shook her to the core. "Horrible. I can hear him screaming from our room," she stated, looking down at her hands. "We always manage to wake him up, but whenever I ask about them he just shrugs it off."

Seeing her inner-anxiety wash over Martha's face, Cassie reached her hand across the table and placed it over the mother's. "You're doing the right thing," she reassured. " Clark will open up when he is ready. We don't want to push him."

Leaning back in her chair, Cassie lightly rubbed her forehead as the newfound information mulled over in her mind. Clark's 'advanced' physiology may quickly become more of a curse than a blessing. The cause of Clark's current withdrawal had occurred to her during their session, yet she didn't want to admit it. She would hate to put more unneeded fear into the family's hearts if she could avoid it. Yet, all the signs were pointing to the same diagnosis, no matter how bleak it may be. "You should keep an eye on Clark over the next couple days. He may be clinically depressed."

Martha instantly looked up the doctor, fear in her eyes. "What?"

Trying to detach herself from her emotional ties to the family and Clark, Dr. Harris continued, "It is not uncommon for people to become depressed after being-" she briefly closed her eyes, "tortured. But usually the depression comes gradually and a bit after the patient's recovery. I'm afraid with Clark's superior mental state he is now finding himself on a roller coaster of emotions. He's been recovering so quickly his mind cannot keep up, and it will be hard to tell when he will reach his breaking point." She paused for a moment to look Mrs. Kent in the eye, knowing the next sentence was critical for the woman to understand. "The next couple weeks will be very hard for you and Mr. Kent, but it will be infinitely harder for Clark."

**To Be Continued... **

**AN:** I'm very sorry that it has taken me so long to update. Hopefully you haven't forgotten about this story. Two months ago we discovered my mother has breast cancer, so it's been a very trying time. But they've removed all of it and now she just has to go into radiation, so it should be less hectic around here.

Please review to let me know you're still reading. Even if it just says 'I read', I'll greatly appriciate it.


	18. Chapters 29 and 30

**Chapter 29: **

He had no idea what time it was. Of course, he never really cared. It's not like he could do anything to change it. Time was out of his control. Just like all the things that truly mattered. For a being with so much power, he had true control over very little.

The moon gently shone through his window, caressing his comforter with a cool glow. But he never noticed. It wouldn't have mattered if he did. He wouldn't have appreciated it, even if he was the one person who could have. Everything goes unnoticed until it gets taken away, no matter how small it may be. And even when it comes back, sometimes the beholder is so damaged that it cannot recognize the inner beauty it still wields.

Tears stung the back of his eyes, threatening to fall. He didn't care though. At one time he was ashamed of the tears, knowing that they showed an emotional side of him that was supposed to be masked in public. Then he grew to be afraid of the tears, knowing that they showed a human trait that he didn't deserve to exhibit. Now, he barely noticed them silently cascading down his cheeks. Even if he did stop them, it never proved anything. They still existed even if they didn't show them themselves.

He closed his eyes, willing sleep to stay away, but the urge grew too powerful to ignore.

He opened his eyes to a sharp, blinding pain originating around his abdomen. Even before he opened his eyes, he could feel the bright light above him. He heard the murmuring of scientists around him, and knew escape was futile. He could only pray it would end soon.

As if to mock his silent prayer, one of the scientists grabbed a green tinged scalpel and dragged it horizontally across Clark's bare abdomen. Clark instantly screamed out in pain, trashing weakly against the metal restraints. The scalpel finally reaching its destination, the scientist pulled it out and dropped it against a metal tray, the clash echoing throughout the sparse room.

Panting heavily, Clark looked up at the man hovering above him. A light green, medical mask colored half the man's face. Just another reason to hate the color green. Only the man's eyes were visible to Clark, yet even that held to relief. Amidst the pain, Clark could barely tell what color they were, but the harshness underlying them was indisputable. Unable to look another second, Clark closed his own eyes, waiting for unconsciousness to claim him.

The next time Clark opened his eyes he was back in his room, yet the pain in his stomach still lingered. Staring up at the ceiling, he tried to calm his uneven breaths, but found it futile. Turning his head, he shakily glanced around the room, unsure what he would find in its dark corners. Clark remained motionless, scared to blink, knowing what was waiting for him in the dark.

A disturbing uneasiness encompassed his stomach. A single thought filled his mind. Get the hell out of his room.

oOo

The loud blare of the alarm clock broke through Jonathan's dreamless sleep. Not wanting to wake Martha up, he reached over and quickly switched the alarm off. He looked over at his wife for a moment, worshipping her graceful beauty, before standing up ready to start the day. He groggily snatched his robe of a hook as he made his way toward the bathroom. Reaching the door, he became instantly aware of the sound of streaming water on the other side.

Jonathan knocked the door twice, becoming increasingly confused. " Clark?" When there was no answer he pounded the door a bit harder, his confusion quickly turning into concern. " Clark!" he called again. Hearing only the faint echo of his own voice, he opened the door, surprised to find shower running even though the lack of light clearly indicated there was no one occupying the room. Flipping the light on, he blinked a couple times before cautiously stepping towards the shower curtain. He wasn't sure why his heart was beating so loudly. There was no shadow on the other side of the curtain, proving that no one else was in the room, but the sinking feeling in his stomach thought otherwise.

Standing a safe distance away from the tub, Jonathan swiftly pushed the curtain aside, his eyes widening at the sight before him. "... Clark?" he asked, his voice scratchy with emotion and uncertainty. His only son was lying on his side, drenched to the bone, as ice cold water rained down upon him. Before his mind processed what was happening, Jonathan bent over the tub, protecting his son from the cold stream. " Clark, what are you doing? You'll get sick," he stated, wrapping his arms around his son's wet t-shirt.

Clark never looked up. He remained on his side, his body and soul defeated by the pounding water. "No, I won't," he answered his voice void of emotion. "Not human, remember?"

Breathless with worry, Jonathan questioned, "What are you talking about?" His body was already starting to tremble as the water soaked through his robe.

"I can't feel the cold," Clark breathed. "I've been trying, but I can't." Several seconds passed in silence, the cold water still dripping off of the father's body and onto the son's face. Jonathan opened his mouth to say something, but immediately closed it when Clark turned his head towards him. "Help me feel the cold," the boy pleaded, his eyes revealing his inner-turmoil.

It was the voice that chilled Jonathan to the bone. It reminded him of when his son was younger and looked to him for all the answers. Now, years later, the same son lay before him lost and helpless, and Jonathan no longer could provide the answers his son was looking for. But the father would provide everything his could. He slowly reached over and turned the shower off. "C'mon, Clark," he said, keeping his voice as calm as possible, "let's get you in some dry clothes." He wrapped his arms around his son, and began lifting him out of the tub.

"No! I want to feel!" Clark frantically cried, breaking from the father's grasp.

Becoming desperate, Jonathan threw himself on top of his son. " Clark, stop!"

"Let me go!" Clark screamed as he used his inhuman strength to push Jonathan off of him onto the floor. Never looking back, he threw himself towards the front of the shower and turned the faucet back on.

" Clark..." Jonathan whispered as he slowly sat up from where he was tossed.

The father silently watched as Clark glanced up at the shower head, rivulets of water streaming down his face. He could feel his son's disappointment when Clark hung his head and miserably turned off the faucet. "It's useless I'll never be able to feel it," he whispered barely loud enough for his father to hear.

Jonathan slowly reached over the tub once more, giving his son the support he needed. "C'mon. Let's get you out of here."

Clark silently complied. Standing up, he stepped out of the tub, letting his father guide him several steps. As they passed the mirror, Clark glanced at it and immediately fell to his knees. His reflection mocked him. It showed him the façade everyone saw, but never revealed what he truly was. Feeling strong arms wrap around him, Clark leaned into his father's chest. "I just...I want to be normal."

"I know, but you were meant for so much more," Jonathan whispered into his son's hair.

"Why?" the boy questioned through his tears.

Jonathan furrowed his brow for a moment. "I...I don't know," he admitted, silently praying that one day his son would find the answers he was so desperately searching for.

**To Be Continued... **

oOo

**Chapter 30: **

Feeling refreshed and relaxed, Cassie stepped out of her motel room shower. She quickly grabbed both towels off the rack, one for her body the other for her hair. Walking out of the bathroom, she looked out the dingy window to see the sun almost at high noon. The doctor spent the past couple weeks doing nothing in particular. Evidently, they called the town Smallville for a reason. Besides being the site of the world's largest meteor shower, the town had little to brag about, and the thought of visiting the small tourist spot where the meteors hit made her feel sick to her stomach. At first, she enjoyed the time off from her usually hectic life. Yet as the days slowly dwindled by, she started to become antsy, looking for anything to preoccupy her time.

The doctor was still extremely hesitant to go back to Metropolis without having anymore information on the mysterious killer who viciously murdered every single one of her colleagues, except for Dr. Baum of course. And, even though some may call her paranoid, whenever she was out in public she was constantly looking over her shoulder, wondering who may be hidden in the shadows. This resigned her to hours of reading both fiction and non-fiction books, completing the never ending stack of puzzles she bought from a local shop, and endlessly going over the files from Clark's capture.

Fortunately, money was not an issue for the young woman. Three years ago, after suffering from a stroke that eventually killed her, Cassie's mother left the young, struggling psychologist a bit of inheritance to live off of. Cassie immediately put the money in a savings account, not able to face the fact her last tie to the family left her. Of course there were still a couple aunts or cousins in the mix, yet none of them were ever close to the family after Cassie's family moved to Kansas when Cassie was still in elementary school.

Dressed in a simple white tank top and hideously green sweatpants, she sat down on her bed. She looked at the half-completed puzzle of two beagles on the table across from her. Sure she would lose her mind if she did not get out of the motel room soon, she grabbed her cell phone, hoping to get a hold of one of her friends to make some plans for the weekend.

The moment she flipped the phone open it blared to life, as if sensing her desire to get out and have a social life. 'Unavailable Number' was boldly stated across the bright screen. Her brow furrowed, she cautiously greeted, "...Hello?"

"Cassie?" a deep voice, obviously male, questioned on the other side.

She stayed silent for a moment, not sure of how to answer. "Who is this?"

"Oh, of course," the voice on the other line rattled off in a nervous tone, realizing its error. "This is Dr. Baum from the-"

"How did you get this number?" Cassie instantly cut off, not wanting any reminders of the horrific circumstance she had met the incompetent scientist. She realized she was being rude to the man who she had put so much faith in, but her, and more importantly Clark's, safety was not something she was willing to toy with.

Dr. Baum voice dropped an octave lower. "There are more important things for us to discuss."

Cassie felt her heart skipped a beat as she softly asked, "What happened?"

Obviously expecting the question, Robert immediately answered in one breath, "Several days ago I went back to the building we worked at and everything was gone, wiped clean as a slate. I would have called you earlier but it was difficult getting a hold of-"

"Wait," Cassie interrupted, still processing everything he had just said. Even through his obvious ambiguity, she understood each unspoken word. "So, when you say everything you mean..."

Robert immediately caught on to what she was referring to. "Everything," he enunciated, his voice once again dropping an octave lower. Not waiting for an answer, he quickly continued with his rambling, "The equipment, the files, even the...debris on the floor."

That was all Cassie needed to hear. She could have sworn she would have dropped the phone right then if it wasn't her only connection to the other survivor. The bodies were gone. That means who ever was there was not only brutal in the killing but meticulous in the clean-up. "Dear God. What do you think this means?"

"That's why I'm calling. Whatever happened back there, it's covering up its tracks. They may decide to come out again." The scientist paused for a moment, picking his words very carefully. "Retrieve what they believe is rightfully theirs."

Cassie closed her eyes, not able to face what his implications meant. "Do you really believe..."

"For a scientific break through of that esteem?" the scientist asked incredulously. "People have done a lot more of a lot less. Whatever happened back there it's not over yet. I don't think it ever will be until they have it back."

Cassie inwardly cringed at the reference to Clark as 'it'. "Okay, thanks for calling," she whispered, her energy depleted.

"Cassie," Robert instantly called out.

"Yes?"

She could hear Robert sigh on the other sigh. "Please, be careful," he said. His tone sounded more like pleading than Cassie would have liked.

"You too," she answered and closed the phone without another thought.

Mentally exhausted, Cassie laid back on the bed, her mind plowing over the past ten minutes. She knew she would have to visit the Kent's today to break the news to them, yet she also knew that she may not have the courage to do it. So many questions were left unanswered. She didn't even know exactly what or who she was hiding from and what their intentions were, even though she could take an educated guess.

She was so tired. And yet she knew no amount of sleep could make her fatigue go away. She was tired of being scared, of not knowing what lurked around the corner. She was tired of no longer having any control of her life, something she valued more than her life itself. Control meant power, and power gave her the ability to change...to change herself, and to change the lives of those who walked into her office. And most importantly, to change the world she lived in.

She knew something big was coming, she could feel it in her bones. Whether it was Clark's break through, or the arrival of the thing that threatened to tear her and Clark's life apart, something was on its way and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Part of her wished it would just happen already, even if she didn't know what 'it' exactly entailed, anything to break her out of the limbo she was currently trapped in.

Most of all, she was tired of waiting.

Opening her eyes, she looked back over at her phone discarded on the nightstand. Frustration quickly building inside of her, she quickly turned over and screamed with all her might into her pillow. With a new resolve, Cassie quickly got out of bed, not letting herself wallow in self-pity for a moment longer. She strode over to her small closet and pulled out a pair of plain kakis and a lavender short-sleeved blouse. She would be visiting Clark today, and it was her own personal oath to always look somewhat professional when visiting a patient.

As she was brushing her hair, her phone rang, foretelling the impending doom on the other line. She warily looked at the phone, willing it to stop. On the third ring, she grabbed the phone and opened it. Relief spread through her as she recognized the Kent's number displayed on the screen.

"Hello?" she answered casually.

"Dr. Harris?" Martha asked.

By the worrisome tone on the other line, Cassie instantly knew something was wrong. "What's the matter? Is it Clark?" She waited a moment as a deep, shaky breath echoed through the phone.

"Please, come over here. It's Clark. We don't know what to do," she begged, obviously on the brink of tears. "It's been days now and..." the woman abruptly stopped, unable to form the words.

Dr. Harris could hear the mother breaking down on the other line. "Don't worry, Mrs. Kent, I'm on my way."

**To Be Continued... **

**AN: **Thank to everyone for being so patient. I know how hard it must be to keep up with this story and I really, truly appriciate it. And pweaze review. It's a fanfic authors only payment.


	19. Chapter 31

**AN: **Apologies all around for the length between the updates. I recently moved and getting everything set up was more of a pain than you could ever imagine (unless if you've move before, then you know what I'm talking about). Anyway I felt so bad that it was taking me so long, that I thought I would update even though it's only one chapter. But it's the longest chapter yet, so maybe that will make it up to you guys.

PS: Feel free to kick me in the head the next time it takes me a month to update.

**Chapter 31:**

Clark sat sideways at his desk in the same spot he spent countless hours sitting over the past couple days. He stared at same spiral knot at the top of the same plank of his hardwood floor. Yet, even spending the better part of four days looking at the dark brown spot, he never really saw it. His green eyes searched beyond the floor, beyond anything physical or tangible and grasped onto the one thing it had left: his mind. But, even that was slowly slipping away as every tantalizing second ticked by.

He knew his seclusiveness worried his parents. That was why whenever they came upstairs with a chore for him he would complete it without complaint. Yet, once the chore was finished, and there was a moment where he wasn't sure what to do, he found himself back in his room, sitting in the same chair, staring at the same spiral knot on the floor. It wasn't that he was tired. God knows it would take for more than a few farm tasks to wear him down. And he wouldn't say he was lazy; it was something beyond that. It was more like he was unmotivated. He couldn't find the point in living when it could be taken away with a bat of an eye. And he couldn't miss something if he never experienced it.

He heard the door open and saw a silhouette in front of him, but never bother to look up. He knew it was one of his parents anyway and by the long hair in the shadow he figured it must be his mother asking him to come down for lunch.

"Hey there, Clark," a female voice, higher than his mother's, echoed throughout the silent room.

Clark jerked his head up and was instantly met with the soft hazel eyes of Dr. Harris. "Cassie?" he asked, his voice gruff from the lack of use over the last several days.

Looking at his shocked face, Cassie smiled. From what the Kents told her she figured it must have been the most emotion he has shown in days. "Surprised to see me, huh?" She greeted with a smile. She glanced around the room for a second before taking a seat on a closed hamper, careful not to break it.

When Clark merely nodded and returned to looking at the floor, Cassie realized that the Kents called her just in time. Since noticing Clark's superior mentality, she had been worried about his overriding emotions. She knew all too well that people recovering from serious trauma quickly fall into a deep depression, sometimes making it almost impossible for her to help them recover from their past. She had hoped that it wouldn't happen to Clark, and now she just hoped she wasn't too late.

Scooting the hamper a couple feet closer to Clark so she could make physical contact if she needed to. "You know, Clark, your parents are very worried about you." Her voice held no edge or venom, just concern.

"I know," Clark whispered, and, if it was possible, he lowered his head a bit more.

"Do you know why they're worried?" Much to Cassie's dismay, Clark merely shrugged. Knowing she was going to have to pry the words out of him, Cassie urged, "You must have some idea."

"'Cause I spend all my time here," he muttered. Clark wasn't sure why but saying each word was a great effort, and, after forming a simple sentence, he was mentally strained

As if sensing Clark's weariness, Cassie quickly changed to topic. "You must be so tired," she stated as she tilted her head in sympathy.

Clark raised his head a bit, but his bangs still hid his eyes from view. "I can't get tired," he answered simply.

Slightly smiling at his innocence, she placed her hand on his thigh, ignoring it as it tensed beneath her palm. "You can become tired in more than one way. I know physically it takes a lot to make you tired. But, emotionally, you must be exhausted."

Clark's brow furrowed with confusion at what she said. Removing her hand, she calmly answered one of his silent questions. "I can sense it. I don't have to see your eyes to know how tired you are. Nobody blames you. You've been through a lot over the past year."

Without warning Clark couldn't get enough air in his lungs. His bangs still obscuring his vision, his eyes searched wildly for answers to his unasked questions. He didn't know why he felt so tense all of the sudden, but he would give anything to make the feeling go away. Dragging in deep, shaky breaths, he wrapped his arms around his stomach.

Seeing Clark quickly close in on himself. Cassie reached over and slowly raised his chin with her hand. As she looked into his bright green eyes, she calmly asked, "What are you tired of?"

Transfixed by the kindness behind the woman's hazel eyes, Clark answered without thought, "…of not having a purpose of my own."

The pure candor behind the answer took the psychologist aback, especially coming from a being who was obviously meant for such wonderful things. "Clark, you have to give yourself a purpose. Something that drives you to continue," she encourage, placing her hand on his thigh once again.

Looking beyond her, he muttered, "There's no point."

"What makes you say that?"

Clark lifted his head and looked directly at the woman, his despair blatant in his eyes. "Because they're coming back," he whispered as if he was telling a secret.

Two hours later, Clark found himself in the passenger seat of Cassie's car. After confessing his fears to the psychologist, he felt no desire to tell her anything else. And after several minutes of a simply nodding or shrugging, Cassie got the picture and silently left the room. He sat in silence, feeling no urge to hone in on the conversation between his parents and Cassie, even though he could hear their soft voices from upstairs. Eventually, he found himself ignoring the world around him and lost in his own thoughts once more. He wasn't sure how much time slipped by before he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Startled, he flinched away from the hand and was even more surprised to see Cassie in front of him.

"Clark, there's something I want to show you. Do you mind if we go on a little road trip today?" she asked, her tone urging him to agree.

Not caring either way, Clark merely shrugged and followed Cassie to her car, not having the slightest idea of where they were going. Despite his best efforts, there was still a feeling of dread as they pulled out of the driveway, for the first time leaving his parents since is return. Yet, no matter what happened or where they went, Clark knew anything would be better than being alone in his room, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

As Cassie pulled to a stop, Clark snapped himself out of his thoughts, for the first time taking in his surroundings. His brow instantly furrowed as he looked around the large cemetery. He quickly glanced back at Cassie, his mouth forming a question that he didn't have the will to say.

Slightly smiling at Clark's bewilderment, Cassie placed a comforting had on his shoulder. "C'mon, Clark, there's something you need to see." She exited the car and headed towards the graveyard, hearing Clark's heavy footsteps closely behind hers. The afternoon sun gleamed brightly in the sky, its rays reflecting off of the marble tombstones. It took her a while to find the intended gravestone, since she did not have time to research its exact location for the impromptu visit. Finally spotting the name amongst the newest headstones, she moved towards it and stopped, praying that it would bring some type of closure to the troubled boy's soul.

Clark looked down and the plain, cement headstone, proclaiming a Thomas Kimball's demise. His brow furrowed at the name, wondering how it was significant to him. Before he could ask, Cassie answered the question for him.

"This is Thomas Kimball, better known as Dr. Thomas Kimball, the head surgeon of a highly secretive research team in the underground of Metropolis." Cassie's eyes remained locked on the tombstone as she tried to keep her voice devoid of any emotion. "He disappeared a couple months ago with a handful of other highly proclaimed scientists scattered throughout the city. Having no close family member to continue the search for him, he was one of the first ones to be buried, even though his body was never found." She drew a shaky breath, recalling his lifeless, blue eyes staring up at her in horror as blood continued to trickle of out his mouth. "I saw him dead with my own eyes...along with everyone else associated with that horrible place." A slight shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the grotesque display of mutilated bodies littering the walls of the laboratory. She looked at Clark, the finality in her voice unmistakable. "Everybody who worked was the lab was killed."

"I wish I saw it."

Shocked by the venom in Clark's voice, Cassie snapped her head towards the boy, noticing his body tensing as he glared at the tombstone. "I'm going to go back to the car, you can come when your ready," the psychologist stated. She hoped the time alone would give Clark the chance to release some of the fear and anger brewing inside of him.

Clark barely heard Cassie as she spoke to him. He wasn't even aware when she left him. All he could focus on was the name clearly etched in the tombstone. Cassie word's echoed in his mind, _"Dr. Thomas Kimball...head surgeon..." _Even though Clark never knew the name, he would never forget the face. The harsh, blue eyes that would stare at him as if he was nothing. An inhuman thing that was created to satisfy their curiosity.

Clenching his teeth, Clark closed his eyes trying to get the image out of his head. He looked back at the tombstone. Its bold letters mocking him, because he knew that he body he desired to destroy was not beneath it. "I hope it hurt..." he muttered through is teeth, his voice husky with emotion. "I hope you suffered, so you could see how it felt...how it felt to be cut open-" he breath hitched, the pain too fresh in his mind. He crashed to his knees and pounded his fists in the ground, creating two small craters. "This was too good for you!" he spat, tears clouding his vision. "You...you..." His breath quickened, unable to think of the words to describe the hate flowing through his veins. Dropping his head, he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Clark looked back up at the tombstone, the name now blurry through his tears. A pain in his abdomen sprung to life, remembering the searing burn as the green scalpel cut through his flesh time and time again. "Why?" he muttered under his breath as the first tear fell. "Why did you do it? Why was it so important to you?" he asked the stone, needing to know the answer. "Because I was different? Because I wasn't born here?" His breathing became harsh an erratic, tears freely flowing down his face. "Well, I hope it was worth it! I hope you found what you were looking for! I'd hate to think you ruined my life for nothing!"

oOo

Cassie watched as the sun descended behind the skyscrapers of Metropolis. Glancing at her watch, she exited the car, knowing Clark's parents must be worried at what was taking so long. Walking through the soft grass, she saw Clark in the distance, hunched over on his knees, and instantly picked up her pace. When she finally reached him, soft gasp escaped her lips. The tombstone that was in front of him was now a pile of rubble, broken to beyond recognition. She immediately turned her attention towards the young man in front of her. Still on his knees, he clutched the grass as if his life depended on it, his hair obscuring his face from view. Cassie placed a soft hand on the boy's shoulder, letting him know she was there if he needed her. Clark turned his tear-stained face towards her and stood up. A word was never exchanged between the two as they headed towards the car, back to Smallville.

**To Be Continued...**


	20. Chapters 32 and 33

**Chapter 32:**

Martha could hear laughter traveling up the stair case as she exited her bedroom. She in inwardly smiled at Clark's decision to have Pete and Chloe spend the night. Originally when the two friends visited they were only going to stay a couple hours then head back to their own houses, yet after Pete and Clark's awkward, tear-jerking reunion and Chloe's late arrival, they soon discovered that they had much to talk about. The mother felt her heart soar when Clark asked after dinner if the two of them could spend the night. Martha and Jonathan quickly agreed, and gave the two friends some old pajamas to sleep in. Truth be told, Jonathan wasn't too keen on the idea of Chloe spending the night, but after some coaxing from his wife he quickly relented.

Not wanting to interrupt the laughter and their bout of inside jokes, Martha tiptoed down the stairs towards the kitchen. Unexpectedly, the moment her foot hit the hard floor of the last step. Clark instantly spun around, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Oh, don't mind me," the mother quickly stated. She inwardly cringed at startling her still recovering son. "I'm just getting a glass of water." Clark merely nodded and turned his attention back to his friends. Walking towards the cupboards, the mother's curious eyes never left her son. Ever since his return, Martha could swear sometimes he could hear her coming from miles away. Shaking the thought out of her head, she grabbed the glass and returned to her room.

"Chloe, I can't believe you did that!" Clark exclaimed, throwing his head back in laughter.

Laughing right along with his best friend, Pete continued, "Man, Clark, you should have seen Principal Reynolds's face when Chloe walked into school in a slut-ified school uniform."

Chloe merely rolled her eyes at the boys' robust laughter. "You guys should be thanking me. I'm the reason why we don't have to wear uniforms when school starts next week."

Clark gazed over at Chloe. "Pete's right though, I wish could have seen that plaid skirt on you," he said as a smile crept up on his face.

"Shut up!" Chloe yelled as she playfully punched him in the arm, which was rewarded with more laughter from the boys.

Hours later, when Pete finally crashed from all the excitement, Chloe and Clark sat on either end of the couch with cards piled up on the middle cushion. "Two fives," Clark stated as he laid two cards face down on top the pile.

"Bull…shit," Chloe dramatically stated as she turned over the cards to reveal a two and a seven.

Clark sighed as he added the small pile of cards to his already overflowing hand. "I'm starting to think you may be the one with X-ray vision."

"Don't insult me. It's all reporter's intuition."

Quirking his eye brow, Clark glanced at the back of Chloe's hand. "Yeah that, and the fact that you already have three fives."

Dropping her jaw, Chloe placed her hand in front of her cards. "No fair! You can't X-ray my hand!" she exclaimed.

"It was reporter's intuition," Clark lied as he ducked the pillow being thrown at his head.

"Yeah, uh-huh. Some reporter you are," Chloe smirked. "Now give me back my pillow, you pillow thief." She quickly grabbed the pillow from Clark's hand and leaned back against it. She gave Clark a second to organize his dozens of cards. She loved the way his brow furrowed as he fumbled with the cards, almost dropping a couple. Noticing his unscathed face, she tilted her head to the side and commented, "It's gone…"

Clark instantly looked up from his hand. "What?"

"The scar on your left cheekbone…it's gone," she stated as she pointed to her own cheek.

Immediately Clark's hand few to his face. "Oh…" he whispered as he felt the smooth skin beneath his fingertips.

Not liking the glazed look appearing in her friend's eyes, Chloe immediately brought her focus back to her cards. "One six," she stated a bit too cheerfully.

Snapping his attention back to the game in front of him, Clark proclaimed, "Three sevens."

oOo

Enjoying the cool summer breeze, Clark sat on his porch as he looked out onto the dark landscape. Chloe finally fell asleep while they were watching a movie after their rousing game of 'bullshit'. Clark had no idea what time it even way, but he didn't care. He was content watching the stars above him as the crickets hummed their last night tune. Noticing an orange glow illuminate the sky, Clark faced east, surprised to see the sun already rising. He sat, stone still, watching as the sun slowly rose over the flat Kansas plains. The boy reveled in its majestic beauty as it illuminated the farm in a vast golden hue.

It was times like these his missed the most during his year held captive. Little wonders that he ignored everyday, knowing that the next day it would still be there. He took for granted the smallest things and he needed to make sure it never happened again. He knew know that while it may always be there, he may not be. Subconsciously, he raised his hand to his left cheek, feeling his smooth skin where the ugly scar once was.

Clark didn't know how long he was trapped there. It didn't matter though. All he knew it was way too long, and his hope for someone to find him was slowly dwindling away. He knew if he was ever going to make it out of there alive, or with whatever humanity he may have left, he would have to do it himself.

He rubbed his sore midsection, noticing how the cuts were taking longer to heal. Yet, no matter how much they may hurt, the physical wounds were not the ones he was worried about. He was a thing there. It had been engrained into his mind since the moment he arrived. And yesterday he had overheard some plans of 're-teaching', and he was not planning on staying long enough to find out what that entailed. He started planning his escape since he was thrown into the small cell, but finally knew he would have to act on it, no matter how desperate and (unplanned) it seemed.

Clark slowly rose from his cot, careful not to pull any of the stitches, even though he knew they would be ripped out the next day. He placed an ear against the large metal door, thanking his newfound ability that they had yet to discover. Hearing no one, except the soft snore of one guard, he took a deep breath and turned the doorknob. His makeshift door jam made out of the cloth from his blanket actually worked. For once God seemed to be on his side.

Knowing the small, cursed meteors littered the room outside of it, Clark attempted to push through the pain focusing on one step at a time. The familiar burning feeling rushed over his muscles as he leaned on the desk for support. It took every last piece of strength he had not to scream. Gritting his teeth, Clark collapsed to the floor when he was mere inches away from the door. He continued to crawl against the hard, tile floor, willing his arms to drag him. He would make it back home or he would die trying. He finally reached the other side of the door. Still feeling the effects of the meteor rocks in the hallway, he continued to crawl down the hall, blinking the black spots out of his eyes.

Finally reaching a safe distance away from the room, Clark attempted to stand using the wall for support. Taking slow, deep breaths, he prepared himself for the run of his life. He knew he was no where near being as fast as he used to from the continuous abuse and lack of sun exposure, yet nothing would stop him from trying. Pushing off the wall, he ran down the corridors, trying to remember the nearest exit.

Clark rounded a corner, spotting a large glass door at the end that guaranteed his escape. Beginning to taste the freedom held behind it, he pushed himself harder. Out of nowhere, a mind numbing pain entered his body and sent him to his knees. His eyes locked on his destination, he reached for the doors, knowing they were just out of his grasp. He fell to the ground, defeated.

"You really are an idiot, aren't you?" a cold voice asked as it stepped out of the shadows. Clark felt four strong hands wrap around his arms and lift him to his knees. A middle-aged man towered above him, holding a piece of kryptonite hanging from a string. "There are silent alarms all over this place. Did you really think we would be so reckless?" Clark continued to glare up at the man, his hate pouring from his veins.

As if Clark's pain pleasured him, the man only smiled as he bent over dangling the piece of kryptonite in front of the boy's face. Chuckling as Clark tired to squirm away, he informed, "This right here is refined kryptonite. The rock in its purist. Isn't it pretty?" he asked as his blue eyes glowed with a fervor. Not waiting for a response, he raised the rock high above his head and slammed it into Clark's unexpected face. The two guards held him in place as his head was thrown to the side, blood running down his left cheek from a clear cut gash. "Ouch," the man mocked as he tied the rock around Clark's neck. He looked down in admiration as he stroked his graying goatee. "Take him back to his room. Show him what happens when he doesn't listen to orders," the man told the two burly guards.

"Yes, Doctor."

The moment the guards threw him into his cell, Clark knew that it was over. There was no more fighting, because there was nothing to fight for. He only asked for mercy that night and his prayers were left unanswered. When the guards left, its hope was gone and its humanity with it.

Clark quickly snapped himself out of his thoughts, reminding himself what Cassie told him just a week before. "Don't dwell on the past, focus on the future," he whispered to himself as he stood up from his porch, ready for a new day.

**To Be Continued…**

oOo

**Chapter 33:**

"Super…Hearing?" Martha repeated, ironically wondering if she heard her son correctly. Clark solemnly nodded, as if he had something to be ashamed of. He had never once looked up from the kitchen table since revealing his new ability to his mother. "How long?" she asked, still not quite sure what one was supposed to say after her son tells her he can hear a spider web spinning from a mile away.

Clark was obviously prepared for the question. "Some time while I was at the lab," he answered stonily.

"Oh…sweetie," Martha whispered, her heart breaking for her son as she reached across and placed her hand on his. She knew it was hard for him to talk about the past year. Once she thought about it, she couldn't remember the last time he voluntarily mentioned the laboratory. "Why didn't you tell us about it before?"

"It felt weird…" Clark muttered, his eyes never moving from the table. "I don't know. I thought maybe you wouldn't look at me the same way."

It took every once of will power in Martha to not rush to son and hug him. She remembered what Dr. Harris had said about asking questions, because there may never be a second chance. "Clark, why would you think that?" She titled her head slightly to the side to get a better view of his face. "Look up at me, honey. You know I will always love you no matter what happens."

Transfixed by his mother's gaze, Clark explained, "Well yeah, I know that…now. For a while though it was like I was just waiting for you and Dad to realize how different I really was. It seemed to obvious to everyone back at the…laboratory. I didn't know if this was be the last straw. That all of the sudden it would click and you would realize I'm not like you."

Martha brought a shaky hand to her mouth. "Oh Clark, I never realized you felt this way."

"I don't," Clark instantly corrected, reaching over towards his mother. "Well, not any more." He gave a small smile, truly letting his mom know he was alright.

Blinking back her tears, Martha brought her hand down and placed it on top of Clark's. "You know you can tell us anything, right?" she asked with a slight nod. "It's so good to hear you opening up…"

"Don't worry, Mom, I know."

Turning her attention towards the clock, Martha instantly frowned. Jonathan should have been back from the southern pasture almost an hour ago. "Where on earth could your father be?" she wondered out loud.

There was a moment of pure silence before Clark answered. "He should still be a little while. Chelsea is giving birth to her new calf."

Martha turned back towards her son with a look of confusion, then in awe. "Well, this new ability can definitely come in handy."

Clark quickly stood up and went to the linen closet. "I should really go take some blankets to him," he stated as he pulled down a handful of towels. As he walked towards the door, he stopped mid-step and tilted his head slightly to the side. "Wait…there's someone walking up our front porch."

A second later the doorbell rang throughout the house. "Well, now your just trying to show off," Martha teased as she reached for the door. Pulling it open, she looked curiously at the finely dressed middle aged man on the other side. "Hello, may I help you?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I believe you can," the man answered, his pale blue eyes twinkling in the sunlight.

oOo

"C'mon, answer…answer," Cassie Harris muttered under her breath as she listened to the infinite ringing in her cell phone. When the ever-familiar voice mail message answered her pleas, Cassie pressed down on the accelerator a bit harder, pushing her car to a near hundred miles per hour. The arrogant beep finally blared through her eardrum for what seemed to be the millionth time. Unlike the past million times she took a risk and left a voicemail message, knowing at this point secrecy was not an option.

"Robert Baum answer your damn phone," she barked, sounding way too much like her mother. "Okay, so since you haven't noticed I've called you a thousand times I guess I might as well just tell you now…somebody broke into my apartment. And not just break in steal the TV and wallet break in, break in and steal just the information I have on…the experiment break in." She paused a moment to take a deep breath. She would do neither of them, and most importantly Clark, no good if she had a nervous breakdown while speeding down the interstate. "They know I'm behind his disappearance. And if they know I'm behind it then probably know you're behind it too. So when you finally get this, give me a call back. You are not an easy person to find." She clipped her phone and threw it onto the passenger seat.

Feeling depleted and lost, she focused on driving. "Oh my God…" she whispered as she recalled the past hour's events. She had finally checked out of the motel three days prior, ready to move on with her life. It had been almost three months since she had rescued Clark, and her mother's inheritance was quickly depleting. The first two days went like clockwork, from moving back in, and calling old patients, informing them she was back from her leave of absence. Yet that day when she entered her apartment after having a quick lunch with a friend, she had found it in shambles.

It took Cassie over an hour to sort through the mess and by the end of it she was

clueless as to what the robbers took. Besides creating a huge mess and breaking a couple pieces of furniture it seemed as though their break in was futile. Yet, the moment she stood up and looked over her newly cleaned living room, it dawned on her the one most valuable thing in her apartment was not there. The file on Clark. The robbers where not there for the electronics or the credit cards, they were there for the one seemingly innocent manila folder, holding secrets that science has, and did, kill for.

As she passed the 'Welcome to Smallville' sign, she reached over and picked up her cell. "They're bound to answer this time…" Cassie muttered her herself as she dialed the Kent's number. Evidently, much like her colleague, Dr. Baum, today the Kent's decided they would be anti-phone and not pick up, no matter how persistent the ringing was. She drummed her fingers on her steering wheel, swearing to God if she heard the bring of an unanswered phone one more time she would join the club and give up phones all together. By the tenth ring, it became obvious that the family still wasn't answering. Glaring at her phone, Cassie discarded it in the back seat and drove onwards towards the farm. Luckily it was called Smallville for a reason, and within five minutes she pulled under the 'Kent Farm' sign. Unfortunately, she failed to notice the black Mercedes next to the barn; it's license plate 'Baum 47' glistening in the sunlight.

**To Be Continued…**

**AN: **One last apology for the length between updates. My computer died and had to be shipped out to fixed, but while it was gone I FINISHED the story. So please check back soon becuase the conlusion of November Rain will be posted within the next 3 days.


	21. Chapter 34 and Epilogue

**AN: **Here it is. To everyone who has read and reviewed, thank you so much!

**Chapter 34:**

Cassie slammed on her breaks directly in front of the Kent house. Her black sedan slid several feet on the loose gravel. Fighting off her seat belt she stumbled out of her car and rushed up the porch stairs. She still had no idea what to tell the Kent family once she found them. 'Someone broke into my apartment and stole my file on Clark, so a scientist may stop by the farm at any moment.' Yeah, that should go over smoothly. Deep down, she didn't care what the Kent's' reactions were, as long as they got off the farm and into safe hiding.

Not thinking twice about knocking, Cassie rushed through the door. "Clark?! Mrs. Ke-" Her screams died on her lips. Martha stood motionless in front of her, her blue eyes bright with tears. In front of the woman, a dressed down Robert Baum held her at gunpoint with a six cylinder pistol. Shocked beyond comprehension, the psychologist headed towards her colleague. "Robert, Wha-"

"Stop," he warned, aiming his gun at her.

Cassie halted next to the distressed mother. A soft groan from below stole her attention away from the gun. "Clark?!" she exclaimed as she started to move towards the boy.

Barely clinging to consciousness, Clark was lying on the floor next to Dr. Baum's feet. A thick kryptonite necklace was wrapped cruelly around his neck. He peered through his sweat dampened bangs, his blue-green eyes cloudy with confusion. "Cassie..." he slurred, his voice strangely rough.

"Don't worry, Clark, it's going to be okay," she reassured in the calmest voice she could muster.

His pale blue eyes practically glowing with fervor, Dr. Baum softly chuckled. "You have to excuse me...I'm not familiar with your field. Is it typical for psychologists to lie to their patients?"

Her usually kind eyes morphing into a bitter hazel, Cassie straighten her back and glared at the scientist. "What the hell do you think your doing, Robert?" she asked, venom dripping from her voice.

Taking pleasure in her disgust, the scientist stated, "Just claiming what's rightfully mine."

Martha had finally heard enough of the scientists' bickering. "My son belongs to no one!" she exclaimed. She glanced down at Clark, who had finally passed out from exposure to the poisonous rock. Her bottom lip quivered with frustration and fear. She did not know how much longer her son would last. Each passing second seemed like an hour to the distressed mother.

"Your son doesn't exist!" Dr. Baum cruelly replied, gesturing towards the fallen boy. "This thing is not human and it's appalling to compare it to one."

Cassie glanced between her colleague and her patient. She cursed the day she trusted the man in front of her. She should have known better than to trust a man who had been so savagely attached to Clark. Yet, through the deception and lies, one thing didn't quite add up. "Why now?" she asked, her voice high with confusion. "You knew I had him the whole time. Why wait three months?"

Robert sighed impatiently at the question, yet Cassie could tell he had been waiting for it to come. "It's finally regained it's level of intellect it lost throughout the past year. You saw it three moths ago, it could barely string a sentence together. Now it's back to where it was before it was captured…before those idiot scientists ruined it's mind with the 're-teaching' sessions." The man's face quickly turned into a hard scowl recalling the debate with his fellow scientists. "I voted against it, but all they were concerned with was it's physical potential, no one even thought of what it was capable of mentally."

"What the hell do you think is going to happen once you put him back in a cage?!" Cassie yelled incredulously. All scientists were worried about were the results, they never took into consideration the emotional aftermath.

"Oh, don't worry. I made sure it will be mentally stimulated. What do you think I've been doing the past two months? I've built a fully equipped workshop for it," he stated his chin raised high as if he had something to be proud of.

Hearing about the man's plans for her son, Martha could no long hold back her tears. "This isn't a pet this is a person!" she yelled, finally reaching her breaking point.

There were so many questions floating through Cassie's head it was hard to pinpoint one. Taking her attention away from the gun in Dr. Baum's hand, she looked down at Clark. Tremors started to wrack through his body. He had regained consciousness, and was lazily blinked at nothing in particular. The absent look in his eyes reminded Cassie of how she found him three months ago trapped inside his own mind.

He had come so far in such a short period of time. No one could have predicted his progress. She turned back towards Dr. Baum, an idea quickly forming. "How do you know he's reached the level you expect? You haven't seen him in three month. He's nowhere near to what you probably need to resume the experiments. The progress of the mind is very slow."

Robert raised his eyes in disbelief at her feeble attempt to trick him. "Correction: the _human _mind is very slow. It is not human. It's advanced far beyond our capabilities. And, don't mistake me for a fool, Dr. Harris. I've been watching your apartment. You started moving back in a couple days ago. You wouldn't have done that unless it's progress has reached it's goal."

"So the past three months you've been planning this? How to use his escape and the massacre at the lab to your advantage?!"

"Who the hell think caused the massacre?!" Robert yelled at the top of his lungs. He placed a shaky hand on his forehead. All of the incessant, stupid questions were starting to get on his nerves. He didn't realize he would have to spell everything out for the woman, yet, at the same time he felt she deserved the right to know. Switching the gun to his other hand, he explained very slowly, like talking to a small child, "Everybody has their price, even well-trained assassins. You should have really researched more before accepting this job. You were among the finest scientists in the world, myself included. We weren't doing it for the money or fame, it was for the progress of mankind."

Cassie jaw slightly dropped at the man's confession. She has spent the past ten years of her life helping and treating a large variety of people, yet she had never met anyone as twisted as the man in front of her. "And for that, you're willing to put a kid through a life of hell?" she softly asked, barely able to find her voice.

As if pleased with her question, Robert genuinely smiled. "You see, that's why I chose you Cassie. Out of thousands of psychologists to naively help me out, I chose you. You always had this nasty habit of letting your patients interfere with your personal life. Instead of seeing them as patients, you see them as people from your past. People you couldn't help." He paused for a moment to gaze down at the fallen boy. Thoughtfully stroking his graying goatee, he pompously stated, "Let me guess…instead of seeing Clark Kent, a alien from another planet, you see Jack Harris, a boy who ate a bullet at the tender age of nineteen. A boy who left his younger sister all alone in the world."

Martha's stifled gasp filled the room. The mother looked over at the young woman next to her, for the first time seeing just how young the psychologist truly is.

Unable to breathe, Cassie stared disbelievingly at the man in front of her, all of the sudden feeling seventeen years old again. Her eyes bright with the onslaught of tears, she screamed, "Shut up! You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Oh please, you were emotionally involved with the subject from day one. I must say though stealing him from the facility after only a week was surprising. I mean, sure, I knew you were going to take him, but to do it so recklessly…that's arrogant even for you."

Cassie proudly raised her head. "I didn't get caught," she stated, still sounding like a teenager.

Robert brought his free hand to his mouth and heartily laughed at the girl's innocence. "Your naivety astounds me," he choked out between his laughter. "I was the one who called off the guards, turned off the laser systems, and replaced all the security tapes. Without me you'd be dead."

"I guess I should thank you for that."

Dr. Baum raised the gun slightly and cocked his head to the side. "Don't be so quick. Any more questions?" he asked, sounding a bit too much like a cliché movie for Cassie's comfort.

"Yeah, is it really worth it?" she replied, her eyebrow furrowed skeptically.

Robert only smiled at first, but that smile held the only answer Cassie needed to hear. "For a discovery like this, you better believe it," he stated, barely above a whisper.

Cassie gazed down at Clark, all her thoughts on how the hell to get him out of this predicament. He hazily blinked back at her, his face scrunched in pain. She needed to do something…anything. He had too much to live for to be caged up like an animal for the rest of his life. Tears quickly welled up in her eyes. She opened her mouth to whisper apologies to him. Apologies of failure and hopelessness. "I-" she was instantly cut off by her colleague, a man she hated more than she ever thought possible.

"Well, now that we're done here…goodbye," he coldly stated as he pulled the trigger.

Cassie never heard Martha's scream. She never felt the bullet enter the chest. She was never aware of when her body hit the floor. The only thing she saw was Clark desperately reaching out towards her, tears already streaming down his face. Her heart never broke at the bullet or at the pain, but it shattered at his anguish.

Robert looked down at the woman's fallen body. "Thank you, for everything. I knew you'd pull through. Hey, that's why I chose you." His face set with determination, he turned towards the mother, pointing the gun directly at her heart.

A second gunshot echoed throughout the room.

Martha braced herself for the inevitable, yet it never came. She looked up at the scientist in shock as he gazed down at his own chest and fell to the floor. Behind him stood a second man with a rifle, the end smoking from the discarded bullet. "John…" Martha whispered in disbelief, as the farmer quickly tossed the rifle to the side. Quickly snapping out of her stupor, she looked back at Cassie, a pool of blood rapidly forming around her. "I'm gonna call 911," she stated more to herself than to her husband.

Nodding, Jonathan quickly rushed to his son and fell to his knees. "Clark…" he whispered as he lifted the boy's head and placed it on his lap, trying to find the clasp to the poisonous necklace. Seemingly unaware of his father's presence, Clark continued to reach out to the fallen woman, his savior…the only person who seemed to truly understand him. "Clark, stop moving," Jonathan ordered as he fingered his way around the cursed piece of jewelry. Finally finding the clasp, he snapped it off and threw it as far away from his son as possible.

Unable to get to her fast enough, Clark scrambled to Cassie, tripping over his own weakened limbs. Ignoring the blood quickly surrounding her, he carefully lifted her head into his lap. "Don't worry, Cassie, I'll take you to the hospit-" he was immediately cut off by her feebly grasping his arm.

"C…Clark," she stated, gazing up into his eyes. She didn't have the heart to tell him. She had so much to say, and she was quickly running out of time to say it. "Don't do thi-" her words halted as blood began to trickle out of her mouth.

Ignoring the tears streaming down his face, Clark frantically breathed, "I need you…"

Cassie merely shook her head, her hazily eyes bright with her own tears. "Y-you're going t-to be okay," she whispered as she placed her hand on the side of his face and stroke his cheek with her thumb. "I…b-believe in you," she stated as loud as she could.

Barely able to breathe, Clark placed his hand over hers. Cassie only smiled. Content for the first time in ten years, she closed her eyes and sighed.

Hearing the soft sigh, Clark looked down. "…Cassie?" he breathed, praying for any type of response. "Cassie!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

And in the distance the soft wail of sirens could be heard.

**The End.**

Three months later

"You were right," Clark stated to Cassie as he fingered the grass. He paused for a moment, even though he didn't expect an answer. "It makes sense though, you always said the right thing, your last-" Biting his lip, he quickly looked away, unable to finish his thought. "It probably doesn't come as a surprise to you, since you were right about everything…at least about me." He looked up at the sun, trying to find the right words. There were so many things running through his mind he didn't want to forget anything.

"I'm sorry I didn't come visit you sooner. After everything you've done for me you deserve better." He let out a long sigh, praying something would break the silence surrounding him. "I'll visit more often, I promise. It's just hard, the first time and all…" He looked back down at her and smiled. "I know you probably don't want me to cling onto the past…say it was unhealthy or something, but I want to. I want to talk to you."

A cool autumn breeze brushed through his hair. "I started school again, but you probably already knew that. With help from the tutor in the evenings I should still be able to graduate on time. Everybody's been really supportive."

Clark talked for the better part of an hour. Cassie never responded, but somehow he knew she was listening. Glancing at his watch, he stood up and casually brushed off his jeans. "I should be going, my Mom's probably almost done with dinner."

Leaning down, He placed one hand on the tombstone and gently rubbed the top of it with his thumb. "Goodbye, Cassie," he whispered. He slowly turned and left, the crisp fall leaves crushing underneath his feet.

'Cause nothing lasts forever, even cold November rain.


End file.
